Apparently people are searching the inter webs a lot for info about the MOAB. So, sorry to be a shameless self-promoter but hey, in this game, you got to do what you got to do.
MOAB! MOAB! Mother of all bombs! Information about MOAB! My blog is so terrible that I think it might be the mother of all bombs…
Hey 3.5 readers.
So I wrote a joke about the Mother of All Bombs. Tasteless? Sorry. Did you come here on accident while you were looking for Masterpiece Theater or something?
Here goes:
“Today the U.S. military announced that they dropped the largest non-nuclear bomb on terrorists in Afghanistan. Sources say the terrorists will be digging copies of Pootie Tang out of the desert for years.”
Bah ha ha! Jimmy Fallon, Jimmy Kimmel, any of you late night talk show hosts, feel free to use that one but just be sure to credit me, BQB. I’m here all week, folks. Don’t forget to tip your waitresses.
Natalie sat in the passenger seat as Walt drove down the highway. The bravado laden voice of America’s favorite anchorman blustered through her ear.
“Natalie Brock. A helluva job you did on the Countess Cucamonga murder story. Helluva job.”
Natalie’s heart fluttered. She’d always dreamed of talking to the man behind the most coveted desk in cable news and now she was. “Thank you. I’m so glad you called, Mr. Manley.”
“Oh, please,” Kurt said. “Mr. Manley was my father. Call me Kurt.”
“OK Kurt,” Natalie replied.
“To be the first on the scene when the world’s most beloved pop star is snuffed out like a spent candle,” Kurt said. “You must have drunk a second glass of lucky juice today, my friend.”
“I was just in the right place at the right time,” Natalie said. “Not that I’m happy the Countess is gone, of course.”
“Of course,” Kurt said. “Blah, blah, blah, we all have to be human and say we’re sorry that we were around when bad shit went down but you know as well as I do that bad shit is always going to go down and its better for our careers if we’re there when it does.”
“I can’t deny that,” Natalie said.
“I hope you broke your foot off in that incompetent cameraman’s ass though,” Kurt said.
Natalie looked at her driver. His attention was on the road. “He was, um, severely reprimanded.”
“Excellent,” Kurt said. “Well anyway, I just wanted to congratulate you on the bang up job you did and let you know that you can take it easy because a Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties is being dispatched to Florida as we speak.”
Natalie closed her eyes. She covered her phone’s receiver with her hand, then blurted out multiple obscenities.
“Natalie?” Kurt asked as the reporter raised the phone back to her ear. “You there?”
“Sorry,” Natalie said. “Bad connection. You were saying?”
“You’re off the story,” Kurt said. “The bigwigs and I were impressed by your bravery. I mean, appearing on TV with your looks? That takes huevos, chica. Huevos grandes.”
Natalie took a deep breathe. “Kurt, with all due respect, I believe I’m the most qualified to report on this story. I’ve already broken it. I’ve already spoken to witnesses and authorities on the scene. I’ve even interviewed Countess Cucamonga’s manager on a number of occasions and he will no doubt prove to be a vital contact as the case progresses.”
“Let me stop you right there,” Kurt said. “You’re talking about qualifications and I’m talking about something else.”
“What are you talking about?” Natalie asked.
“Blonde hair and big titties,” Kurt said. “You don’t have ‘em and we need ‘em.”
“That’s disgusting,” Natalie said.
“Maybe it is,” Kurt said. “But we’re Network News One and you know our motto: The Hottest Blonde Chicks. The Biggest Titties and…”
“Oh yeah, and occasionally we report the news and shit,” Natalie said. “I know it well.”
“Then you understand the bind we’re in,” Kurt said.
“I understand you’re a bunch of sexist pigs,” Natalie said.
Kurt sighed. “Natalie, it’s easy to write the type of reporter that we here at NN1 prefer as a product of sexism, but if you do that, I think you’re missing the bigger picture.”
“Which is?” Natalie asked.
“The world is a terrible place,” Kurt said. “Umpteen zillion years ago, God granted us the gift of life and we’ve been repaying him for the favor by killing ourselves and each other at a rapid clip ever since. We’ve yet to put our minds to curing that which ails us, like cancer and heart disease, but everyday a new fangled method of killing the masses is invented. It’s sickening when you really think about it.”
“What does that have to do with…”
“Hot ass blonde chicks with big titties?” Kurt asked.
“Right,” Natalie asked.
“The people must be educated about what’s going on in the world,” Kurt said. “But with all the death and depravity going on, would anyone really bother turning on the news unless a hot ass blond chick with big titties was there to report on it?”
“I like to think that people don’t care about what the reporter looks like so much as the quality of the news report,” Natalie said.
Kurt chuckled. “And I think a leprechaun ought to swoop down on a magic unicorn and give me a pot of gold and a Vietnamese hooker loaded up with enough ping pong balls to choke a horse but we’re talking about reality here, kiddo, not fantasy.”
“This isn’t fair,” Natalie said.
“Oh boo hoo,” Kurt said. “Guess what? Life is unfair. Do you think some janitor making minimum wage to snake out shitty toilets only to come home and write out an alimony check for three-quarters of his pathetic salary to his no-good, two-timing ex-wife even though she hasn’t allowed him to see his kids for six months would ever, EVER want to turn on the news and learn about how many people were blown to smithereens today unless that information was pouring out of the supple red lips of a hot ass blonde chick with big titties?”
Natalie struggled for a response but couldn’t find one.
“Do you know how much joy our hot ass blonde chicks with big kitties bring to the average male news viewer?” Kurt asked. “Do you know that the average porn website costs over fifty dollars for a three month subscription? Do you know that in our recent viewer survey, a whopping eighty-nine percent of respondents said that they watch our channel for ‘fapping material?’ We’ve got people masterbating to our reporters and learning about war, destruction, chaos and the latest monkey produced virus to be found in their microwave TV dinners. It’s a beautiful thing.”
“I guess I never thought about it that way,” Natalie said.
“Most women don’t,” Kurt said. “Most women don’t understand what it’s like to have a penis. That little guy demands action 24/7, the type of action that our overburdened, overpopulated world is ill-equipped to offer anyone. The closes the average man will ever come to a hot ass blonde chick with big titties is to watch our channel.”
“Even so,” Natalie said. “I still…”
“Plus,” Kurt said. “Did you know that we are the nation’s number one employer of hot ass blonde chicks with big titties? Without our network, hot ass blonde chicks would be forced to resort to one of the other despicable professions they’re known to work in. We’re talking stripping, pornography, or even worse, appearing in network dramas for scale. Scale, Natalie! Are you trying to starve our hot ass blonde chicks with big titties?”
“No,” Natalie said. “I would never want to hurt the hot ass blonde chicks with big titties.”
“Good,” Kurt said.
Natalie searched within herself for strength. After mustering some up, she gave it one last try.
“Kurt,” Natalie said. “I’ve been trapped at the same local station for ten years. I don’t want to be here for my entire career. If I lose this story, I doubt I’ll ever find another one like it. Please. Don’t take me off it.”
There was dead silence on Kurt’s end of the phone for a moment. Finally, the anchorman sighed and started talking again. “You got guts, lady. You know, you remind me of a young me. Hard to believe, I know, but I wasn’t born the stud muffin I am today, the same stud muffin that gets women to tune in by the millions. We here at NN1 aren’t just about brining the news to men while they get off. Every night, the nation’s supply of females tune in just to flick the old bean around to yours truly.”
Natalie made a face of pure disgust. She was glad Kurt wasn’t able to see it. “OK then.”
“With a little hair dye a whole lot of plastic surgery, you too can be a hot ass blonde chick with big titties,” Kurt said.
“But I don’t want to be a hot ass blonde chick with big titties,” Natalie said.
“Yeah, well,” Kurt said. “Maybe I didn’t want to have ten trillion hairs ripped out of my anus and surgically implanted on my head in order to fight my male pattern baldness. Maybe I didn’t want my teeth replaced with shiny porcelain chiclets. Maybe I didn’t want silicone gel implanted in my pecs or off brand, illegally imported, discount Guatemalan botox shot into my face by a nursing school drop out every morning but damn it, I wanted to be the best damn anchorman around so I did what I had to do. Was I wrong when I said you had huevos grandes?”
“No,” Natalie said.
“Then get out there and get yourself some blonde hair and big titties!” Kurt said.
“But,” Natalie said. “There’s not enough time for me to get blonde hair and big titties.”
“Well,” Kurt said. “You better think of something because your boldness just bought you another round of airtime, kid.”
“Thank God,” Natalie said.
“No,” Kurt said. “Thank me.”
“Thank you, Kurt,” Natalie said.
“And the next time I see you on air, you better look like you just walked off the set of Jumbo Jigglers Part Seventeen.”
Click. Kurt hanged up. Natalie did as well.
“Network News One?” Walt asked.
“Kurt Manley himself,” Natalie answered.
“Wow,” Walt said. “Someone’s moving up in the world.”
Natalie rested her head against the cool glass of the passenger’s side window and watched the bright lights of Miami pass her by. “Where the hell am I going to get blonde hair and big titties at this hour?”
Network News One Transcript #2
KURT MANLEY, NN1 ANCHOR: …witnesses on the scene reported that a grand total of forty-nine orphans died in the fiery plane crash. It would have been a cool fifty had the fiftieth orphan not had the foresight to feast on the charred remains of his tiny companions, thus giving his body the much needed nutrition it required in order to stave off hunger until the rescue team arrived. We here at Network News One wish little Timmy a speedy recovery and may God one day grant this tyke the mental strength necessary to push the unspeakable acts of cannibalism he committed in order to save his own oily hide aside so that he will be able to live a productive and prosperous life. In other news, a civil war has broken out in the third world nation of “NoOneCanPronounceThisShittyCountry’sName-istan.” Reporting live from the war zone is our own Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties. Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties, are you there?
(Cut to a bombed out, depleted battlefield. A beautiful, blue eyed, buxom blonde woman stands in the middle of the wasteland, wearing a helmet and holding a microphone. Her flak jacket is zipped low so as to reveal copious cleavage).
HOT ASS BLONDE CHICK WITH BIG TITTIES: Thank you, Kurt. I’m coming to you from “NoOneCanPronounceThisShittyCountry’sName-istan,” risking my life to bring you the latest updates from the front.
(Bullets whiz inches over the reporter’s helmet. Off in the distance, a missile hits a building, causing it to explode).
KURT MANLEY: God bless, Hot Ass Chick with Big Titties. How did this war break out?
HOT ASS BLONDE CHICK WITH BIG TITTIES: Well, Kurt, tensions have long been on the rise between the country’s two rival factions, the “DoWhatWeSayorTakeaMacheteUpYourTaint-tarians” and the “ObeyUsOrGetanRPGUpTheButt-ians.” The UN has attempted for several years to broker a peace deal between the leaders of these opposing movements, but alas, both sides have different viewpoints on how the country should be run.
KURT MANLEY: Please explain, Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties.
HOT ASS BLONDE CHICK WITH BIG TITTIES: Scholars and historians have written extensively on the various nuances surrounding this conflict, but it basically boils down to the fact that the “DoWhatWeSayorTakeaMacheteUpYourTaint-tarians” believe that everyone should do what they say or take a machete to their taints, whereas the “ObeyUsOrGetanRPGUpTheButt-ians” maintain that people should obey them, lest they get a rocket propelled grenade up the butt.
(A tank rolls across the horizon, far behind the reporter.)
KURT MANLEY: Fascinating. We’ll be checking back with you throughout the day for further developments, Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties. Stay safe, and protect your titties.
HOT ASS BLONDE CHICK WITH BIG TITTIES: Thanks Kurt. I will.
KURT MANLEY: In other news, a tractor trailer truck full of adorable baby kittens has rolled over on the freeway just outside of Milwaukee…
(Cut to footage of an overturned tractor trailer truck on the highway with thousands of kittens pouring out of the back of the trailer. Police and firemen chase the kittens, scooping them up in their arms).
KURT MANLEY: Here to report on this situation is Another Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties. Another Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties, are you there?
(Yet another beautiful blonde, blue eyed woman appears on screen. She wears business attire that shows copious cleavage. She holds a fluffy, wide-eyed kitten in her arm and her microphone in her free hand).
ANOTHER HOT ASS BLONDE CHICK WITH BIG TITTIES: I’m here, Kurt. There’s pussy, pussy everywhere as Route 55 has been flooded with fancy felines. Although the toxicology reports have not yet come back from the state lab, authorities believe the accident was the result of the driver attempting to inject a liquefied form of black market horse erection medication directly into his veins while trying to merge onto an offramp at the same time. Horse erection medication is a controlled substance and of course, using it while driving is a criminal offense.
KURT MANLEY: It sure is, Another Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties. Of course, I only know that for news reporting purposes and only news reporting purposes.
ANOTHER HOT ASS BLONDE CHICK WITH BIG TITTIES: Now, the authorities are doing everything they can to round up these rambunctious little rascals but they say it’s like, well, trying to herd cats. In fact, the state highway patrol’s office has stated that anyone who wants a free pet is welcome to come on down and grab a pussy. Grab as many pussies as you want, two or three at a time if you want. All of these pussies are up for grabs.
KURT MANLEY: Isn’t that something? Thank you, Another Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties. Keep us update on this very important story and let us know when all of those pussies have been grabbed.
ANOTHER HOT ASS BLONDE CHICK WITH BIG TITTIES: I sure will, Kurt.
(Cut to Kurt, back in the studio.)
KURT MANLEY: In sports, the quarterback of the East Randomtown Mascots shot his balls off last night when the firearm he had illegally concealed in his sweatpants went off accidentally. Word has it that the Mascots might fine the quarterback ten thousand dollars, a palpable hit to his multi-million dollar salary. We go now to…oh wait…hold on, folks…
(Kurt presses his finger against his earpiece and nods).
KURT MANLEY: That story about the ball shooter will have to wait. Ladies and gentlemen, I have terrible news. Drop whatever you are doing, send the kids out of the room and sit down. Maybe pour yourself a brandy to take the edge of. Say a prayer to your preferred deity, then do some yoga. Maybe engage in some meditation and self-reflection. Do whatever you need to do to prepare for this shocking news: a celebrity has died. I repeat, “a celebrity has died.” Someone who entertained you is no longer alive and although you never met this person or had any idea what this person was like off camera, you should feel like a pile of rotten garbage right now. You should weep uncontrollably, take the next week off of work to mourn, and above all us, write ten thousand posts on Lifebox about your favorite memories of this artist.
(Kurt shuffles some papers. He appears choked up.)
KURT MANLEY: Now America, we here at Network News One pride ourselves on having the hottest blonde reporters with the biggest titties, but as you know, the news happens when it happens. It doesn’t check with our schedule first. We’re doing our best to get a Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties to work this story but for now, our affiliate reporter, Natalie Brock, will have to do. Everyone, please try to ignore Natalie’s frumpy school marm hairdo and those mosquito bites she tries to pass off as knockers. Natalie’s obviously one of those people who got into the news business because someone, somewhere told her she was smart or something and it never dawned on her that she just doesn’t quite have the look. Even so, she’s very brave for appearing on TV with her looks and is a real trooper in my book. Natalie, what’s going on?
(Cut to Natalie Brock, standing outside the Sunnyside Arena. Police cars and ambulances with flashing lights are stationed behind her).
NATALIE BROCK: Kurt, sad news in the music industry tonight as Sally Ann Dubawitz, better known to the world as pop star sensation Countess Cucamonga, has been murdered at the age of twenty-eight.
KURT MANLEY: Sweet Jesus!
NATALIE BROCK: I know. It’s a shock that someone so universally adored would be cut down in her prime.
KURT MANLEY: Well, that, but I had no idea her name was “Sally Ann Dubawitz.” You mean she wasn’t really a Countess?
NATALIE BROCK: Not at all, Kurt.
KURT MANLEY: You learn something new everyday. Now I understand you have some footage of the crime scene?
NATALIE BROCK: Indeed I do, Kurt and I must stress that it was a very bloody, gruesome scene, so viewer discretion is advised.
KURT MANLEY: Did you hear that, folks? If you’ve got a gut full of stew, you might want to take five. Your fault if you end up blowing chunks all over your carpet. Don’t send NN1 the cleaning bill.
(Cut to footage of the inside of Natalie’s dressing room.)
IRVING, COUNTESS CUCAMONGA’S MANAGER: Jesus H. Fuck!
(The camera captures Natalie standing inside the doorway to the bathroom, but no carnage is visible yet).
NATALIE: Walt, are you rolling?
(The camera turns and captures Walt’s chubby face, zits and all.)
NATALIE: Walt!
WALT: Huh?
NATALIE: Are you rolling?
WALT: Oh, yeah, sure am.
(The footage goes on for a full minute with Walt staring at the lens, occasionally sticking out his tongue and licking his lips.)
WALT: Is my tongue supposed to be so white? I should get that looked at…
(Cut to Natalie at the arena).
NATALIE BROCK: Obviously, we had some technical difficulties there.
KURT MANLEY: Obviously. Now Natalie, what have some of the music industry’s most esteemed representatives had to say?
NATLIE BROCK: Kurt, there has been a massive outpouring of sympathy for the Countess and her friends and family. In fact, rapper Lady Steez posted moments ago, “Countess Cucamonga was a pioneer in the world of ass related music. If she hadn’t had the courage to sing about her fat ass, I never would have had the courage to rap about my fat ass.”
(Kurt wipes away a tear, then pats his heart).
KURT MANLEY: I’m sorry. That just got me, right here. Very touching.
NATALIE BROCK: Meanwhile, rapper Stank Daddy has already recorded a tribute song, filled with lyrics about the Countess’ ample posterior, set to the rhythm of a popular 1970s track.
KURT MANLEY: Wow, that was fast.
NATALIE BROCK: Yes, and by rapping over a popular old song, this allows Stank Daddy to appear fresh and new, as though he invented the song himself.
KURT MANLEY: Brilliant. Thank you Natalie, our Miami affiliate reporter who must shop at the world’s tiniest brassiere store. Come to think of it, do those things even need support? Seems like a waste of fabric if you ask me. We’ll be staying on the story of Countess Cucamonga’s untimely demise, but first, let’s cry our eyes out during a commercial break, shall we? Sports and weather in the next hour and oh, don’t forget that there’s a brand of toilet paper that could give you the Ebola virus. Don’t wipe until we tell you which one it is.
(Cut to a banner that reads, “Network News One”)
ANNOUNCER: You’re watching Network News One. The Hottest Blonde Chicks. The biggest titties. Oh yeah, and sometimes we even report the news and shit.
Wacky Boston accents. Explosions. Mark Wahlberg wants you to say hello to your mother for him.
BQB here with a review of Patriots Day.
It’s not easy to make a movie about real, tragic events. First, there’s the possibility that people might be offended by the idea of Hollywood making a buck off of other people’s misery.
Second, real life often does not provide cookie cutter storylines. Thus, movies like these often come across as well-acted documentaries instead of an actual cinematic story.
Mark “I’m From Boston So I Have to Be in All of the Boston Movies that Ben Affleck Isn’t In, Kid” Wahlberg leads the cast as Sgt.Tommy Saunders, a chronic pain sufferer forced to work crowd control on the Boston Marathon as a punishment. Saunders is in the dog house with the department for unspecified reasons, but he’s assured this assignment will return him to good standing.
What begins as a fun event quickly turns tragic when bombs go off. Scenes of mayhem, carnage, responders assisting people who have lost limbs, blood, body parts etc. Personally, I could have done without seeing that, though I understand the overall goal was to explain to the viewer the pain, both physical and mental, that people experienced due to this attack.
Throughout the film, we are introduced to various people from all walks of life, from a young studious couple who end up losing their legs, to the poor unfortunate MIT police officer who is in the wrong place at the wrong time, to the dude who’s just checking his text messages when he gets kidnapped by a pair of terrorists and forced to go on a scary ride as their hostage.
Things get more interesting as the hunt for bombers/terrorist brothers Tamerlan and Dzhokar Tsarnaev gets underway. Kevin Bacon and John Goodman are among the actors who play the assorted suits in charge.
One part that caught my attention was how technology made a big impact on the investigation. Officers collected cell phones from the scene and were flooded with emails from citizens who had been recording footage. Based on all that data, the authorities were able to find images of the two suspects.
It all concludes in a frightening chase/stand-off in Watertown, where the Tsarnaevs shoot at and hurl homemade bombs at police officers. The scenes rival any action packed summer blockbuster. Intriguing to watch until you realize…this actually happened. Dun dun dun.
Overall, I felt the film treated the event with respect, though there has been some controversy. For example, there have been some reports that Dennis Simmonds, a black police officer who was injured during the Watertown shootout, then died a year later from his wounds, was not granted any screen time. Way to go, Hollywood.
STATUS: Shelf-worthy. It runs long. You could wait to rent it, though the Watertown shoot out scene is pretty intense on the big screen. Again, I do say that reluctantly, as this stuff actually happened.
Sad news 3.5 readers, as Ringling Brothers Circus, a longtime American institution, is closing.
Is the circus an old timey thing that just didn’t last in the modern age? Some news reports say it was the cancellation of the performing elephant part of the show that hurt ticket sales. That’s too bad but then again I guess I don’t want to see elephants suffer just for amusement purposes.
I don’t know. Surely in this day of advanced tech, couldn’t they have come up with some other spectacle to keep the audience in their seats?
Will you miss the show, 3.5 readers?
Ugh. Publishing elitism.
Laurie Gough recently wrote in the Huffington Post:
“To get a book published in the traditional way, and for people to actually respect it and want to read it — you have to go through the gatekeepers of agents, publishers, editors, national and international reviewers. These gatekeepers are assessing whether or not your work is any good. Readers expect books to have passed through all the gates, to be vetted by professionals. This system doesn’t always work out perfectly, but it’s the best system we have.”
-Laurie Gough, “Self-Publishing: An Insult To the Written Word.” The Huffington Post. December 29, 2016
I’ll let you read the article yourself but to sum it up, after claiming that she would rather “share a cabin on a Disney cruise with Donald Trump than self-publish” she goes on to explain that good writing takes years of rejection, that it is a self-imposed apprenticeship, that only by going through the gatekeepers is good writing achieved.
Ugh. OK, on one hand she is correct. Writing, like any other skill, takes time to develop. The more you work on it, the better you’ll get.
However, let’s not pretend that “the gatekeepers” are really doing anything to actually help you get better at writing. Ninety-nine percent of the time, when you submit a manuscript to an agent or a publisher, you’ll get a form letter stating something to the effect of, “Thanks, but no thanks.”
You won’t get a marked up manuscript showing all the mistakes you made so you can improve.
You won’t get a nice letter saying, “You got moxie, kid. Just do this and this and that and you’re going places!”
You won’t get anyone offering to sit down with you and go over what you need to do to improve.
You’ll get a form rejection letter and that’s only if your submission doesn’t get lost in the zillions of other submissions the agents and publishers receive on a daily basis.
She’s not without a point. If you do get into the traditional publishing system, there will editors, agents and pros that will help you improve yourself.
But that’s if you get into it. And as I’ve always said, giving up on self-publishing in the hopes that a lucrative self-publishing contract is on the horizon is a lot like giving up a kiss from a woman that likes you because maybe, just maybe one day Scarlett Johansson might want to kiss you.
She’s correct about how good writing requires a lot of time and hard work. And if traditional publishing is something you desire, then you should give it a try.
However, who has ten years to wait? And let’s not pretend that they are a bevy of “gatekeepers” waiting in the wings to guide you.
The writing world sucks. If you get into it at a young age, there are a handful of success stories where people hit it big early but for the rest, it’s a long, hard slog uphill where you make crap pay and work crap hours in the hopes that maybe, just maybe one of those gatekeepers will hook you up.
Self-publishing lets you make things happen on your own.
Yes, many people are lousy writers who have no filter or ability to comprehend they are crap writers. They hit the publish button on a pile of crap and then drag down the whole self-publishing industry.
You can’t just whip something out in an afternoon, draw a cover with crayon, then slap it up there and expect to get anywhere.
It just seems like many critics of self-publishing, this author is painting all self-publishers with a broad brush.
And finally, can we just be honest and say that regardless of your personal politics, it would be fun to share a cabin with Donald Trump on a Disney cruise? The man would probably buy you drinks and cigars and shit. He’d fill the cabin with hot chicks. It’d be a party every night. Order whatever you want and the bill is on him. He’d bring the family and Melania would wear a different supermodel outfit everyday and Ivanka would give you free fashion advice. He’d write wacky tweets about Mickey Mouse. You would surely walk away from the experience with some interesting stories to tell.
What say you, 3.5 readers?
Happy Saturday/New Year’s Eve, 3.5 readers.
Ronda Rousey has lost a second fight, this time to Amanda Nunes. Critics are calling on her to retire, claiming that she’s had too good a career to taint it with further losses. In other words, she had a good run and now she should focus on other things, acting and movies for example.
My opinion – women always say, “we can do anything a man can do!” and that’s all well and good and it’s a free country so they should do what they want but sometimes I think in their rush to do manly things they don’t realize that men aren’t always right in the things they do.
Fighting is a stupid sport. You get your brains knocked around, you get injured, you’re hurting yourself, you’re hurting someone else. It kinda sucks that men do it so I feel even worse when I see women get into a ring and sock the crap out of each other.
I’m not saying they should be stopped but just…I don’t know…this may be an area where women might realize that historically, they used to not fight professionally and historically, maybe they were right not to do so. Maybe they were right and men were wrong.
I’m not sure what the Rondster should do next. She has an interesting story, she’s a great athlete and a super hot chick. If she’s up for it maybe she should keep trying but then again, maybe there are more awesome movie roles out there for her. She was the best part of Expendables 3 and Fast and Furious Part Whatever I Lost Track of How Many Now.
I even have a standing job offer for her. She can just say the word and she can replace Bookshelf Q. Battledog as Head of Security of Bookshelf Battle Headquarters. She would surely do a better job than that little flea bag at keeping the Yeti under control.
What say you, 3.5?
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.
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!
Bookshelf Battle 