Tag Archives: humor

Feb 09 2017
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Top Ten Most Embarrassing Entries in BQB’s Private Journal

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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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Feb 04 2017
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Tomfoolery

Bookshelf Battle Blog Under New Management

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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.

LEGAL CONCLUSIONS

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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Feb 03 2017
6 Comments
top ten lists

Top Ten Pieces of Investment Advice

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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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Jan 15 2017
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BQB's Favorite YouTubers

Miranda Sings Makes Her Own Hatchimal

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

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

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Jan 14 2017
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Self Publishing

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

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

Blake:

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

Williamson:

All but one.

Blake: 

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

Levene:

Yeah.

Blake:

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

Moss:

I don’t have to listen to this shit.

Blake:

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

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

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

Levene:

The words are weak.

Blake:

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

Moss:

What’s your name?

Blake:

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

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

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

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

Blake:

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

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

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

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

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

Moss:

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

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

Blake:

You see this watch?  You see this watch?

Moss:

Yeah.

Blake:

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

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

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

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

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

Blake:

It takes a set of brass balls to sell books.

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Blake heads into interior office).

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Jan 04 2017
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Stop Sucking With Vinny Baggadouchio

Stop Sucking with Vinny Baggadouchio – Desuck Your 2017

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

I’m Vinny Baggadouchio and I’m going to stick a straw into the world and suck all the suck right out of it until it sucks no more.

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

The History of Not Sucking

1001 People Who Do Not Suck

Would You Suck for a Buck? (Not about prostitution).

Unsucking Humanity (Is about prostitution).

Suck Out the Suck

How Many Sucks Must a Man Desuck Before He Can Be Called a Non-Sucker?

Help! My Life Sucks!

The Suck on the Train

Once, Twice, Three Times a Sucker

A Sucky Day in Brooklyn

Pulp Suction

Sucking in Outer Space

The Wheel of Suck

Around, Around the Suck Goes.  Where Does It Stop?  Nobody Who Doesn’t Suck Knows

I Can’t Stop This Sucky Feeling

3.5 readers, did you suck last year?

Be honest.  You know you did.

You sucked at life.  You sucked in your relationships.  You sucked at home.  You sucked at work.

You would not, could not un-suck in a truck, you would not, could not, un-suck with a duck.

Face it.  The bad news is that you suck.

The good news is that sucking is not a permanent condition.  If you’ve come down with a bad case of the sucks, you are in luck, because this malady is curable.

What did you suck at?  Your health?  Stop sucking at exercise.  Stop sucking at abstaining from fatty foods.  Stop sucking at willpower.

Did you suck at your job?  Stop sucking at showing up on time.  Stop sucking at putting in the extra effort.  Stop sucking at communicating with your co-workers.

Did you suck in your relationship?  Stop sucking at being faithful to your significant other. Stop sucking at honesty.  Stop sucking at kindness.  Stop sucking at love.

2016 is in the suck can of history.  You can’t change it.  You can’t fix it.  If you sucked last year, your memories of last year will always suck.

But don’t make your past suckiness ruin your life.  You do not have to suck forever.  You can grab the suck bull by its sucky horns and ride it all day long until it tires out and it doesn’t feel like sucking up your life anymore.

Here’s my three step plan to suck the suck right out of 2017:

Step #1 – Admit That You Suck

You have to suck at denying that you suck.  Don’t hide your suck.  Pull your suck right out of yourself and hold it out for all the world to see, then yell, “I suck with the gale force wind of a thousand Hoover vacuums and I will not suck for one day longer!”

As long as you hide your suck, you can ignore your suck.  And ignored suck never goes away.  Confront that suck.

Step #2 – Develop a Plan to Not Suck

Do you suck at being thin?  Make a plan to stop sucking at stopping by the gym every day after work.

Do you suck at meeting new friends?  Make a plan to introduce yourself to one new person once a week and strike up a conversation that does not suck.

Do you suck at cleanliness?  Stop sucking at doing the dishes, the laundry, and all those daily chores that suck but keep your home from not sucking.

Is there something you’ve always wanted to do?  Stop sucking at learning it.

Step #3 – Follow Through with Your Anti-Suck Plans

Whatever you need to do to not suck, do it.  Make your anti-suck plan work, then work your anti-suck plan.

Ridding your life of its suck won’t happen overnight, but if you make a commitment to never suck again starting today, then by the end of 2017, you will surely see a tremendous reduction in your life’s suck levels.

This suck won’t un-suck itself, people.  You’ve got to stop sucking at making your suck-free life happen.  There’s no time like the present to not suck.

Thank you for reading, 3.5 readers, and don’t forget to pick up one of my anti-suck books, available now at a book store near you that does not suck.

OBLIGATORY DISCLAIMER: Vinny Baggadouchio holds no credentials of any kind and nothing he says should be construed as advice that you should rely upon. If you suck, you should seek the help of trained professionals who can assist you in unsucking up your sucky life.

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Dec 16 2016
5 Comments
Tomfoolery

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’ve got to know.

The lyrics:

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

POSSIBLE THEORIES:

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

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

EVIDENCE:

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

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

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

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

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

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

The song just doesn’t give me enough info.

#2 – Mommy Cheated on Daddy With Santa

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#4 – Mommy and Daddy Were Role Playing

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

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

#5 – The Kid’s a Liar

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

#6 – Daddy’s a Cuckold

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

#7 – The Kid Dreamed It

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

#8 – Mommy Kissed a Bearded Woman

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

#9 – Daddy Looks Like Santa Claus

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

And finally…

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

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

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

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

Discuss in the comments!

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Dec 09 2016
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Tomfoolery

Giraffe Sex Song

Hey 3.5 readers. BQB here.

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

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

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

Barry, take it away.

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BARRY:

Aww, yeah thank you BQB.

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

Do you readers know what time it is?

ALL FEMALE CHORUS:

What time is it?

BARRY:

It’s time to get freaky!

CHORUS:

Oooh, freaky!

BARRY:

It’s time to get nasty!

CHORUS:

Nasty!

BARRY:

It’s time….for giraffes to fuck!

CHROUS:

Start fuckin’ giraffes!

BARRY:

Girl, I see you across the savannah.

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

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

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

CHORUS:

Greatest feature!

BARRY:

We’re living proof that Darwin was right!

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

CHORUS:

Dead giraffes don’t fuck!

BARRY:

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

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

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

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

CHORUS:

The world will mourn!

BARRY:

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

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

CHORUS:

Giraffe sex!

BARRY:

Whoa, uh oh Giraffe sex!

CHORUS:

Giraffe sex!

BARRY:

You thought we giraffes were all shit out of luck.

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

Whoa, uh oh, giraffe sex!

CHORUS:

Giraffe sex!

BARRY:

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

CHORUS:

The world needs it!

BARRY:

For all of us giraffes to get together and breed!

CHORUS:

Giraffe breeding!

BARRY:

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

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

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

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

Whoa, uh oh giraffe sex!

CHORUS:

Giraffe sex!

BARRY:

Don’t you know it’s the only way?

A bunch of horny ass giraffes must save the day!

CHORUS:

Save the day!

BARRY:

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

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

CHORUS:

Giraffe booty bounty!

BARRY:

Don’t even worry about giraffe fellatio.

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

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

CHORUS:

Giraffe cunnilingus!

BARRY:

That would require an entire football field between us.

CHORUS:

So much between us!

BARRY:

Whoah, uh oh, giraffe sex!

CHORUS:

Giraffe sex!

BARRY:

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

CHORUS:

Giraffe cooter!

BARRY:

Whoa, uh oh, giraffe sex!

CHORUS:

Giraffe sex!

BARRY:

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

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

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

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

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Dec 08 2016
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Stop Sucking With Vinny Baggadouchio

Stop Sucking With Vinny Baggadouchio – Desuckifying the Holidays

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

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

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

Six Ways to Suckday

When a Problem Comes Along, You Must Suck It

Suck Less Now…Ask Me How

Have You Ever Tried to Not Suck?

Suck Free in Sixty Days

Sucky Suckers and the Sucky Suckers Who Suck Them

Get the Suck Outta Here!

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

The Path to a Suck-Free Life

The Super Suck Cure

Help!  I Suck!

Sucker Says What?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dear Vinny B,

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

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

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

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

Sincerely,

Big Time Sucker in Jacksonville

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Dec 05 2016
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Tomfoolery

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

Hey 3.5 readers.

BQB here.

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

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

Without further ado…Krampus.

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

BQB: Your Evil Hornyness, welcome.

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

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

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

BQB: Yes.

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

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

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

BQB: He doesn’t?

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

BQB:  Really?

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

BQB:  Wow.

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

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

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

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

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

BQB:  Oh.  And the bad kids?

KRAMPUS:  Beaten with chains.

BQB: Umm…

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

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

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

BQB: Please don’t sing one.

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

BQB: Stop.

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

BQB:  Stop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BQB:  So it was Hitler?

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

BQB:  Well, when you put it like that…

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

BQB: Why don’t you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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