Tag Archives: humor

Toilet Shocker – First Chapter Draft Test

Just giving it a trial run.  Let me know what you think in the comments, 3.5.

toilet shocker demo

Chapter 1

February 27, 2019 – Moonbeam Coffee, Store #11,041 – Portland, Oregon
Heather Laramie’s wokeness wasn’t a hobby – it was a passion. Her frame was thin, the result of many a hunger strike in the name of whatever the latest social cause was trending on Lifebox. She owned multiple Che Guevara shirts, allowing her to wear the image of the Communist revolutionary daily. In her defense, her grasp on history was tenuous and she was unaware of Guevara’s bloodthirsty actions. She just viewed him as a man who wanted people to get free stuff, an economic system that in Heather’s eyes, was totally doable, seeing as how her parents gave her free stuff all the time, so surely the government had a money tree lurking about somewhere that could be shook until the leaves fell off into perpetuity.
Yes, Heather talked the talk. She regaled anyone who would listen of her love of Senator Murray Leibowitz, the upstart, self-proclaimed “Democratic Socialist” who gave former Homeland Security Secretary Emily Wannadingle a run for her money during the 2016 Democratic primaries.
More importantly to her, she walked the walk. She drove a Yarikazi Elf, which was literally the smallest car on the market, virtually one step above being a glorified golf cart. Sure, it was cramped, she was never able to invite a friend to come along for a ride, and motorists regularly slammed into it because they typically failed to see it and assumed the parking space it was in was available, but it got great gas mileage and was good for the environment, assuming that energy coming out of a wall socket was somehow produced in a cleaner manner than gas harvested from the bowels of the earth but…hey, you know what? That’s not the point. The point is, the car made her happy.
And many things made Heather happy. There was the “Resist” tattoo she got permanently etched on her right forearm the day Vinny Stugotz was sworn in as the forty-fifth president of the United States. There was her pink pussy hat, which she, in addition to Che’s grim visage, also wore daily. She even decorated it with a pin that read, “Keep your laws off my vagina.” Heather was, in fact, such a proponent of anti-vaginal legislation that she regularly posted on her blog about her support for a controversial law that would allow women to have an abortion up until the 24th trimester, known throughout the media as the “Whack ‘Em with a Baseball Bat Until Their Sixth Birthday Bill.” Murray Leibowitz was the bill’s chief sponsor, and once Emily Wannadingle’s people determined through a series of polls that the bill was popular, she vocalized her support for it to.
Yes, Heather was proud of her lifestyle and yearned for the day when the revolution would come, bathing the streets red with the blood of capitalist pigs, seizing any and all businesses and putting them under government control, and putting all labor at the new Communist government’s disposal. Like many young comrades, Heather always pictured herself as some kind of commissar, someone who would be paid handsomely to vocally support Communism and punish those who criticized it. Most millennial pinkos typically fantasized about becoming high-ranking officials in the apparatchik. None ever envisioned themselves as ditch digging peasants who would work for 12 hours a day, then spend the other 12 hours waiting in line for government issued toilet paper and moldy blocks of cheese.
Also, somehow in this fantasy vision of utopia, Schmuck Phones, Lifebox, superhero movies, boy wizard books, video games and continued access to Mom and Dad’s backyard pool and tricked out basement still existed, though no one ever offered an explanation as to how, in a world where a workforce would be whipped into submission and aspirations of wealth would be quashed under an iron boot, all these luxuries would continue to exist.
Back to the main point. Heather was woke – exceedingly, ridiculously, absurdly woke, and out of all her expressions of wokeness, there were none that the pink haired, bespectacled college student majoring in 17th century lesbian folklore was more proud of than her position as a barista at Moonbeam Coffee.
Yes, Moonbeam Coffee, the wokest provider of caffeine fixes on the planet! Come for the triple half caf, skinny foam, mocha whipped honeysuckle cold brew with trace hints of ginger and turmeric. Leave when you ask for a large coffee with sugar and cream and the staff looks at you funny. Come for the recycled cups featuring tips on how to save the environment like “Compost daily” and “Get rid of your lamps and sit in the dark.” Come for the giftshop, where you can buy a bumper sticker that reads, “Live Locally, Frolic Globally” or “My Other Car Doesn’t Exist Because I Don’t Hate Mother Nature So Much that I’d Own Two.”
Heather had loved her job for three years, ever since her un-woke, patriarchal father insisted that if she was going to waste his money on lesbian folklore classes, that she’d better at least get a job to pay for her personal expenses. At first, she despised the cis-male scum who raised her, decrying his name for failing to see the abundant job opportunities that were available to students of lesbian folklore that hailed from the 1600s, but she soon came to enjoy making octuple caf, tall foam marzipan swirls with rosemary shots. She loved it so much that she was sure she’d just keep working there after college, opting to forego the abundant job opportunities in her field of study, of which she remained unwaveringly sure that they did, in fact, exist.
Alas, on the day in question, Heather began to have grave concerns as to whether or not her job would remain enjoyable in the future. A line of smelly, unkempt, unhygienic homeless people of all ages, races, sexes and creeds waiting to use the one toilet in the store’s small bathroom extended out of the store and down the block. This had been happening daily for months, ever since a vagrant had sued Moonbeam Coffee and won three million dollars after being refused to use the bathroom at a San Francisco store. The court ruled that the company’s policy against allowing bathroom access to paying customers only was discriminatory against the poor, and Moonbeam Coffee could no longer make arbitrary rules that unfairly affected the economically challenged.
For Heather, the result was that she hadn’t been allowed to serve a brew since the Fall of 2018. She was now on bathroom clean-up detail, standing outside the perpetually stinky restroom with a plunger and a mop at the ready. As she looked up at a television monitor that was playing her favorite news channel, Heather began to question everything she had ever believed.
Lydia Estevez von Straffsbourg-Kightlinger-Tiparoo, the most popular reporter on the Woke News Network, had been recently named the host of The Lesbian Slam Poet News Hour, the only show in which militant feminists updated the public on the latest stories in rhyme.
On screen, Lydia wore her usual outfit, a black beret and matching turtleneck sweater, a look completed with a pair of thick glasses. She was surrounded by a diverse array of poets. In the background, one poet pounded a pair of bongos.
“Moonbeam Coffee,” Lydia said. “It’s been eight months since this vile, capitalist, profit motivated criminal organization perpetrated by the one percent dared to commit the unspeakable, unforgivable hate crime of telling a man that he could not use the bathroom unless he bought a locally sourced, farm to table, gluten free scone, half the proceeds of which would have gone to creating communes for transgender watercolor artists in impoverished nations. What do we think about this, ladies?”
Vocal pundit Maura Heffernan-Augustus-Peabody-Benjamin brushed a piece of lint off of her “Fuck Stugotz” t-shirt and looked directly at the camera. “I don’t care how long it’s been, Lydia. I admit that this is a tricky situation, given the fact that I do support locally sourced, farm to table, gluten free scones and the building of communes for transgendered watercolor artists in impoverished nations, but…”
Maura was interrupted by Jessica Melman-Walters-Duffy-Boombalay-Bensonhurst, a contributor with a shaved bald head and a t-shirt that depicted President Stugotz swinging from the end of a noose. “Can I just say that President Stugotz is not doing enough to help start communes for transgender watercolor artists in third world nations? This is the defining issue of our time and that pig, that pretender, that usurper of Emily Wannadingle’s birthright couldn’t be bothered to do a thing about this.”
“I agree,” Maura said. “And I can’t wait to hear the slam poem you wrote about that, sister, but first, I would like to read my poem about Moonbeam Coffee’s despicable reign of tyranny.”
“Go on, sister,” Lydia said. “Hit us with your truth.”
Maura sipped some water. She cleared her throat, then stood up and read from a piece of paper. “Beans of hate! Beans of hate! What is the fate of those who would stand by and sell the beans of hate? Unwoke baristas, chasing the mighty buck, but about those less fortunate, they could hardly give a…”
At that precise moment, poor Heather suffered a mental break. Her eyes welled with tears, and not just the ones that were inspired by the stench emanating from the bathroom. Heather had lived and breathed the teachings of the Woke News Network for as long as she could remember. She had long adored The Lesbian Slam Poet News Hour and had bought all of the books written by its contributors, from Free Stuff Works to Down with Penile Rule. She was even a fierce supporter of homeless rights, having spent many a weekend protesting against income inequality.
The door to the bathroom swung open, causing the air to become borderline unbreathable. Out from the squalid conditions emerged a hobo known around the community as “Dumpster Dave,” for his penchant for sleeping in large trash receptacles. He’d come close to being crushed in the trash compactors of three separate trucks, but he was still ticking. His tattered clothing reeked of bourbon and feces and as he looked at Heather, he wiped the snots that had formed in his mustache onto his coat sleeve.
“Damnation!” Dave said. “You got your work cut out for you today, Heather!”
Heather sighed. “Did you at least put your needle in the sharp container this time, Dave?”
Dave appeared aghast. “Un-woke bitch! Ain’t you been watchin’ the television-o-mo-bobber? I gots a to shit where I pleases and it’s a hate crime to ask me that!”
In her heart, Heather knew what she was about to say violated ever belief she’d ever held dear. Alas, her brain and heart had been in a running battle ever since Moonbeam Coffee had been forced to let any and all comers to use the bathroom, no questions asked, no purchase required. “So, you’re telling me I should have to risk contracting a deadly, incurable disease because you’re too lazy to put your needle in a safe container that my company provided to you for free!”
The hobo got flustered. “Buh..fah…gah…hate criminal! Damnation, you one of them Stugotz voters, ain’t you? Where’s your MAFFA hat, bitch?”
“Oh come on,” Heather said. “Like I would be caught dead in a ‘Make America Funky Fresh Again,’ hat.”
“Where’s your manager?” Dave asked. “I want to speak to your manager.”
Heather sighed. At the counter, Heather’s manager, Janice Schaeffer, was busily preparing a septuple caf frappucino with extra goat leche and a sprig of oak root. Heather’s stomach turned at the idea that she was about to disappoint her boss. Although Janice was twenty years old, Heather felt a special kinship to her employer. Between the faded hammer and sickle tattoo on the upper half of her left bosom and the green hair, Heather had a hunch that she was going to be a lot like Janice when she reached middle age.
The boss noticed the commotion and came over. “What seems to be the problem here?”
As the fracas ensued, a skinny woman with a protruding baby bump entered the bathroom and closed the door.
“This no-good, dirty rotten, conservative bitch just implied that I should exercise personality responsibility for myself!” Dave shouted.
Janice gasped. “Heather! How could you?”
A low moan emanated from inside the bathroom.
“All I did was suggest that if Dave is going to use our bathroom to shoot heroin…”
“I gots to shoot heroin, bitch!” Dave said. “It’s not my fault that I got an addiction due to the fact that I ain’t been able to find a job in seventeen years.”
Heather cocked her head to the side. “You haven’t found one single job in seventeen years?”
Dave threw his hands in the hair. “Bitch! I been holdin’ out for a CEO position!”
Janice shuddered. “I…I can’t even right now. First, Dave, I know the unjust capitalist system has been cruel to you, but you can’t just call women the b word…”
“Thank you,” Heather said.
The boss finished her thought. “…unless she’s using unjustifiable hate speech and then it’s ok.”
Dave stuck his tongue out at Heather. “How do ya like me now, bitch?!”
Heather’s lower lip quivered. “But…buh buh…but…Janice!”
“We all attended the sensitivity training, Heather,” Janice said. “Remember when the stockholders were livid when every Moonbeam Coffee store in the nation shut down for three weeks so employees could be flogged while being taught how to become sufficiently woke. You’re displaying a very insufficient level of wokeness right now.”
Bloodcurdling screams poured out of the bathroom. “Gah..ahhh…oh God….ohh….argh….ARGH!”
The baristas ignored it. They had grown accustomed to such noises.
“Janice,” Heather said. “You know I think the world of you. You taught me everything I know and even invited me to my first protest but I’ll have you know that I’m very woke. I’m so woke I write anti-Stugotz screed on my Lifebox daily. I’m so woke I donated to Murray Leibowitz. I’m so woke I own one and only one cloth tampon that I wash in the sink daily. I am woke.”
“You’re not acting like it,” Janice said. “Apologize to this man.”
“Yeah,” the toothless loser said. “Apologize to me right now, bitch.”
Heather looked at Janice’s disapproving face, then at Dave’s grinning, scabby face. “I will not.”
All activities in the store ceased. The plucky young baristas, the hipsters on laptops writing their screenplays, even the homeless folk in line waiting to use the crapper, all grew silent as they took in the spectacle.
Soon, the silence was cut by the screams of the woman inside the bathroom. “Ugh…get out of me you little fucker! Goddamn you, Johnny! Why did I let you do this to me?! Goddamn you to hell!”
Heather pointed at the long line of poor folk. “Janice, this is ridiculous.”
“I beg your pardon?” Janice asked.
Heather gulped and mustered up her inner strength. “Only paying customers should be allowed to use a business’ bathroom. There, I said it, and I’m glad I said.”
Everyone gasped. “Take that back!” Janice said.
Heather raised her voice. “I won’t! Look, it’s simple. Businesses need to make money in order to provide goods and services and whenever an employee is taken away from providing those goods and services, that translates into the company making less money, which means there’s less money for employees to get raises, and less tax dollars going into the system to promote much needed social welfare programs!”
The woman in the bathroom cried out in pain. “Barrrrrgh! I want this to be over so bad!”
Janice pointed to a glass box attached to the wall. It contained a medieval cat-o-nine-tails behind a glass plate. Underneath it was a brass plaque with the words, “Break in Case of Insufficient Wokeness” printed on it.
“Don’t make me break that glass, Heather,” Janice said.
“Janice,” Heather said. “I love you, but listen to reason. Things were so much better when only paying customers were allowed to use the bathroom. People who actually like our store and want to see it succeed because they enjoy our products would treat the bathroom with special care, being sure to not make too much of a mess because they knew if they did so regularly, they’d be too embarrassed to come to their favorite hangout anymore. And if they did make a mess, then at least they contributed to the store’s bottom line, so that the company could afford to hire a designated janitor and baristas like me wouldn’t have to be taken off the counter, away from all the delicious designer coffees and forced to clean up shit and piss and hypodermic needles and…”
The door to the bathroom swung open. The young woman, looking like a pale zombie, walked out. Her body was drenched in blood and she carried a baby wrapped in toilet baby. The infant cried loudly.
“Excuse me,” the woman said as she pushed her way past the baristas. “I have to go find a dumpster.”
“Don’t you put dare put that thing in my house,” Dave said.
“Hey,” Heather said as the woman walked away. “You know, there’s a police station that’s just down the street. There’s a law that you can drop off a baby, no questions asked.”
“Get your laws off my body,” the woman said as she pushed the front door of the store open, leaving a bloody palm print on the glass.
Janice pointed at Heather’s “Keep Your Laws Off My Vagina” pin. “You don’t deserve to wear that. What happened to your support of the ‘Whack ‘Em in the Head Until Their Sixth Birthday’ law?”
“I’ve been rethinking that,” Heather said.
Janice gasped. “I think you need to leave, Heather.”
Heather ignored her boss. She stepped onto an empty, chair, then stepped onto a table, breaking up a hipster writing session. “I’ve been rethinking a lot of things lately.”
“Whatever you’re thinking, young lady, your thoughts aren’t welcome here,” Janice said.
“I used to love this job,” Heather said. “Back when it was fun. Back when I could make coffee and talk about all the free stuff that people should be given for free but now…now I realize, nothing good in life is free.”
A dirt bearded, man-bun sporting drifter wearing a sleeveless shirt to show off his prolific arm tattoos entered the bathroom. “Holy shit!” he cried. “It looks like somebody had a baby in here! Oh well, fuck it, beats shitting at the shelter.”
Heather became lost in her tirade. “When I started working here, it was a happier time, a simpler time, an easier time, a better time. I could make coffee all day and sell it at an absurdly marked up price but posers didn’t care as long as they could post selfies of themselves holding a trendy cup. I was able to watch WNN on the monitor for free and at most, on any given day, I rarely had to spend more than five minutes cleaning the bathroom and I just want to return to that simpler time…”
“Hey,” came the voice of the drifter from inside the bathroom. “Someone should really scrub all the blood off the walls. It’s unsanitary.”
Heather continued. “…now all I want to do is return to that better time, that wonderful time, that…”
Janice punched the glass and, without a care for the blood dripping from her knuckles, seized the cat-o-nine-tails. “Don’t you say it.”
“…a funkier time…a fresher time…”
Janice’s nostrils flared. “If you say it, you’re….”
Heather ripped off her pink pussy hat and tossed it to the ground. She pulled off her Che Guevara shirt to reveal a star-spangled, red-white-and blue Vinny Stugotz campaign shirt, emblazoned with the forty-fifth president’s catchphrase, “Make America Funky Fresh Again!”
“MAFFA!” Heather shouted at the top of her lungs. “MAFFA, motherfuckers! MAFFA forever!”
All the hipsters, baristas, and homeless folk averted their eyes, as if Heather’s new shirt contained the retina burning light rumored to pour out of the ark of the covenant itself.

“I never wanted this!” Heather shouted. “You all made me this way! This is been brewing in my gut for months and finally, I have to let it out! If you want stuff, you should buy it! If you can’t afford to buy it, you should get a job! If you can’t find a job, you should seek the skills needed for one! If your physically or mentally impaired, then you should seek out government services instead of just lying around on the street all day but at any rate, if you want a better life, then that better life comes from you, not from the government.”

Janice broke out into tears. “I’m going to need to rent all the therapy puppies to get over this. How could you, Heather?! How could you?!”
Heather looked at her mentor and felt internal anguish. She hopped off the table and attempted to hug the older woman, only to be pushed away. “Get away from me, monster! You support that criminal! That animal! That beast who wants to lock all minorities in concentration camps!”
The young lady sighed. “Janice, he’s been president for two years and he hasn’t locked up any minorities in concentration camps.”
The boss wiped a tear from her cheek. “He will. They’re coming. Any day now. Camps for gay people. Camps for women. Camps for brown people. The blog-o-sphere told me so.”
The drifter inside the bathroom broke the tension. “You’d you people would stock up on more toilet paper. Is free toilet paper too much to ask?”
Heather walked over to the counter, grabbed the remote control, then returned to Janice. She put her arm around her boss, then pointed the remote at the TV.
“No,” Janice said. “Please don’t.”
“They’re not that bad,” Heather said. “You’ll see.”
Heather turned off WNN and turned on Network News One, the only network dedicated to bring the latest in conservative news and also, titties. Big titties attached to jaw droppingly beautiful female reporters. At the moment, those lovely ladies were taking a powder so that conservative blowhard Jim Clayton, a white-haired old fogie with a buzz cut, could bark at the camera.
“Welcome back to Jim Clayton’s America. Today on the show, are feminazi activists trying to chop the pee-pees off your three-year-old sons and turn them into little girls? The answer is a most resounding yes, but first, taxes. Fuck taxes. Fuck ‘em right in the butt. I hate taxes and I don’t care who knows it. If you want my money, eat a dick. Come at me and take my money out of my cold, dead hand if you want it so bad but until then, get a job. What the fake news media won’t tell you is that thanks to the booming Stugotz economy, companies are flush with cash and they’re churning out jobs out the wazoo, so get a job hippies and stop trying to raise taxes so you can give all my hard-earned money to shiftless flat-backers, no good, degenerate lay-abouts, and dirty rotten deadbeats.”
Heather took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Preach, my brother, preach!”
All hope fell out of Janice’s eyes. “You’re fired, Heather.”
“I know,” Heather said with a smile. “And that’s ok. I’ll find another job because I’m switching my major to venture capitalism.”
“Please go away,” Janice said.
“And I’m going to get married,” Heather said. “To a man.”
“Stop,” Janice said.
“I don’t know what he’ll be,” Heather said. “Maybe a police officer or a fracking rig operator…”
“No more,” Janice said. “Please, no more.”
“We’ll have three children,” Heather said. “And I’ll take a few years off of work to raise them because seeing their adorable little faces will be the greatest pleasure of my life.”
Janice pointed at the door. “Get out! Your words cut through the depths of my soul like a flaming hot knife through butter!”
“I’ll take care of myself,” Heather said. “And I’ll urge my friends and family to take personal responsibility. And if I ever do fall on hard times, the support system I’ve created by starting a family will be there for me, so I won’t have to depend on the incompetent, bureaucratic machinations of big government…”
The baristas stared at the TV. Jim Clayton was working himself into a foamy lather.

“Look, I’m not saying that women’s reproductive rights should be regulated by the government, I’m just saying that their vaginas should be packed full of cement, only to be chipped away when they enter the bonds of holy matrimony. That’s right. We’re going to build walls inside women’s vaginas and we’re going to make them pay for it.”
Janice dabbed her moist eyes with a handkerchief. “That’s disgusting.”
“Actually,” Heather said. “It makes sense when you think about…”
A scream came out of the bathroom. It was louder than usual.
“What the?! Argh! What’s…what’s happening to me?!”
Janice knocked on the door. “Hello! Sir, assuming that’s your preferred pronoun, and forgive me if it isn’t, are you OK in there?”
“GAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”
“Damn it,” Heather said. “Another crackhead overdosing because the liberal-political-media industrial complex convinced this guy that he should live on the dole, avoiding any and all personal responsibility, never finding any direction that would make him a better person and…”
The drifter’s cries grew deafening. “SOMEBODY HELP ME! HELP ME, PLEASE….ARRGGHHH!”
“You’ve been helped enough, sir,” Heather said. “Lazy sponges like you are the reason why Stugotz won!”
Janice grabbed the knob. “I think he actually needs help.”
“Oh,” Heather said. “Right.”
The boss opened the door. She and Heather looked inside to find that the drifter had been burnt to a crisp. His body had the texture of a charred, blackened marshmallow, gooey yet crusty. His mouth was agape, his teeth the only part left that hadn’t been fried.
Heather’s immediate response? “Why the hell is there a black guy in here?”
All the screenwriting hipsters snapped their heads toward Heather in disgust. “No, wait,” Heather said. “That came around wrong. I love black people. All my best friends are black. I marched for black rights all the time. I’m just saying, this guy was white but now he was somehow turned black and…”
“Stop digging the hole, fascist,” Janice said as she surveyed the room. The walls were already covered with the blood and feces of over a hundred non-paying bathroom users, but the smoking husk of a man was a sight that no barista had ever seen before.
“Clean this up, Heather,” Janice said.
“Uh…hello?” Heather asked. “You just fired me.”
“Oh, right,” Janice said. “Damn it.”

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

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

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#251 – Sundays are for sleeping in.

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

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

#254 – I’ve never seen a geyser.

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

#256 – “Rutabaga” is fun to say.

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

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

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

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

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

#262 – There goes the neighborhood.

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

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

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

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

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

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

#269 – No one wears spurs anymore.

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

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

#272 – Skydiving will never be my bag.

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

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

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

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

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

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#225 – Politeness should come back in style.

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

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

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

#229 – Napkins are fancy paper towels.

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

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

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

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

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

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

#237 – Does God ever pray to himself?

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

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

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

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

#242 – Never befriend a shark.

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

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

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

#246 – Leprosy is not a good time.

#247 – Oh boy.  Another superhero movie.

#248 – Change the subject and change your mind.

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

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

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

#205 – An unrowed boat will never go ashore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

#212 – Weeds are the douchebags of the garden.

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

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

#215 – Coins are outdated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#185 – Did dinosaur farts cause earthquakes?

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

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

#188 – Well, there goes the cultural zeitgeist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#155 – Ferret is an oft underutilized meat source.

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

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

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

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

#160 – Television is fun to watch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#170 – Neon colors aren’t used enough.

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

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

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

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

#175 – It must be hard to be crazy.

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

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

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

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

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

#79 – Lifting weights can make you stronger.

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

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

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

#83 – No one makes VHS tapes anymore.

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

#85 – Were Groucho Marx and Richard Marx related?

#86 – Plants must be watered.

#87 – “Ransack” is an interesting word.

#88 – Bell and Biv were carrying Devoe.

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

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

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

#92 – Cars have four wheels for a reason.

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

#94 – Paris is lovely this time of year.

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

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

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

#98 – Swans are just fancy ducks.

#99 – Waffles are delicious.

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

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

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

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

#52 – Men will always like big breasts.

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

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

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

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

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

#58 – Cookies are fun to eat.

#59 – Cancer is the worst drag of all.

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

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

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

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

#64 – Cinnamon goes good with everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#72 – Words are the building blocks of sentences.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#30 – Did Samurais eat rye bread?

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

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

#33 – String is good for tying things up.

#34 – No one has any cash anymore.

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

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

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

#38 – Chips go good with dip.

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

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

#41 – Croutons are like speed bumps for salad.

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

#43 – Polish makes objects shiny.

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

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

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

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

#48 – Nobody writes letters anymore.

#49 – Toaster ovens are the microwaves of yesteryear.

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

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Great Musings of the Twenty-First Century #1-25

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

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#1 – Once a fart exits the butt, does it still exist?

#2 – Fur is like a coat for a dog, except it does not include a zipper or buttons and cannot be taken off.

#3 – I’m not sure why cereal is considered a breakfast treat.  I enjoy it at any time of the day or night.

#4 – Sometimes, when I see a hamster running around a wheel, I want tell the little guy to stop running, because the joke’s on him…but then the more I think about it, the joke’s probably on me.

#5 – We can put a man on the moon but we can’t devise a cure for crotch rot.

#6 – Rulers in America are always 12 inches long.

#7 – Couches are good for sitting.

#8 – Pressed for time?  Start a film at the last five minute mark and save yourself two hours.

#9 – Well, those bastards at the post office raised stamp prices again.

#10 – Soy sauce, like most sauces, can be put on any food, but the key to deciding whether or not you want soy sauce to be on your food is to a) imagine what the food tastes like b) imagine what the food would taste like with soy sauce on it and then c) decide whether or not that would taste good before proceeding with the squeezing of the soy sauce packet onto the piece of food in question.

#11 – I’ve never met a bagel that couldn’t be improved by cream cheese.

#12 – Coffee helps you wake up in the morning.

#13 – I’ve found that whenever I’m sick to the point of vomiting, it’s always good to stay take a sick day from work.  Otherwise, you might vomit on your co-workers and boy howdy, will that ever put a bee in their bonnets.

#14 – Bermuda is a better country to visit than North Korea.  If your travel agent gives you a choice between visiting Bermuda or North Korea, pick Bermuda.

#15 – When your feet are cold, it’s time to slip on your socks.

#16 – Space is enormous.  You can fit a lot in there.

#17 – When it comes to sticking your head in a velociraptor’s mouth, I’m against it.

#18 – Nazis are history’s dick cheeseburgers with extra turd sauce.

#19 – Music is a symphony for the ears.

#20 – Whenever I need a good laugh, I remember that Kirk Cameron’s best friend on “Growing Pains” was named “Boner.”

#21 – I visited Muncie, Indiana once.  It was OK.  There are worse places to be and there are better places to be.

#22 – Skunks are just smelly rats.

#23 – Why are pineapples called “pineapples?”  They don’t come from pine trees.  Some ancient tree scientist somewhere really screwed the pooch on that one.

#24 – One day, a dog and a cat will fall so madly in love that they will fornicate.  When that happens, an everlasting world peace will not be far behind.

#25 – It has been my experience that when an electrical appliance requires power in order to function, the best action to take is to take the plug attached to the aforementioned appliance and insert it into a wall socket.  Consult a fully bonded, licensed and insure electrician for more information.

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