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Category: 1970s

You Stay Classy, Continental Airlines

You Stay Classy, Continental Airlines


Have you ever wanted to fly on a plane with shag so thick it’ll drown a toddler? Me neither, but when was the last time you were able to comfortably stand up in a plane, let alone grab a mixed drink and play pong? Exactly. These days you’re lucky if you have enough room to properly own and operate all four appendages. I’m not in a position to buy my own private jet yet, so I have to settle for the garbage that’s currently on offer. I assume that many of you are in a similar position.

Flying in a commercial airliner is closer to riding on a Greyhound bus than soaring majestically over the clouds. Even the first class cabins in most planes are pretty meh. I’m pretty sure Air Emirates offers hookers and blow for anyone flying first class, but they’re the outlier in this case. The average cabin looks like the inside of a PVC pipe with some carpeting and uncomfortable seats. What happened to the buffet and dinette sets? When did things go so wrong? We don’t have to have crappy, boring plane rides, we just do.

Some people might say that the reason why we’re confined to our seats is for safety, but that’s kind of a load of crap. I’d rather hit turbulence while standing at the bar, getting hammered on complimentary mini-drinks than sitting in a glorified deck chair, surrounded by people who are way too sober to be flying.

Watch Out for That… Cliff

Watch Out for That… Cliff

Ah, George of the Jungle. For readers of the BSBFB of a certain age, George of the Jungle will always be an amusing cartoon. For some reason, chicks prefer the live-action movie with Brendan Fraser in a buttflap. Chicks are weird, ain’t they? And what is it with chicks and horses, anyway?

At any rate, it may be time for a new version of George of the Jungle. I hereby nominate George of the Cliff Face here. Of course the theme song will require a rewrite:

George, George, George of the cliff face
Soaring like a hawk
Ahhh
Watch out for that rock!

George, George, George of the cliff face
Destined for the doc
Ahhh!
Watch out for that rock!

When he gets in a scrape
He makes his escape
And pays for the hospital
With this videotape

Then away he’ll schlep
With his internet rep
While YouTube and Instagram
Stay in step with

George, George, George of the cliff face
Next time check the wind sock
Ahhh!
Watch out for that (Ahhh) (Oooh) rock!

(Thanks to longtime reader Charles Schneider for sending that one along)

Led Zeppelin Jr.

Led Zeppelin Jr.


If you were Led Zeppelin Jr., wouldn’t that make also make you the Percy Yardbirds the third? And wouldn’t that make you Chester Arthur Burnett the fourth?

Well, I’m not sure of the official rules of patrilineal lines of succession, but Greta Van Fleet is definitely the Prince of Wales for the kingdom of Bonzo. I don’t know much about matrilineal lines of succession, either, so I’m not sure where Jo Van Fleet fitsĀ  into the equation.

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I Miss Boxing

I Miss Boxing

I assume boxing still exists in some form or fashion. Like a lot of sports, it doesn’t matter anymore, which is the same as being extinct to me. They have that wan replacement with barefoot guys with manbuns rolling around on the mat and barfighting occasionally. I’m not interested. Barfighting ain’t boxing.

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