After a long hard day the entire BSBFB office has gone out for a bite to eat. You can see Rex, our head writer, there on the far left. Fido, our lead editor, is in the middle. Duke, our foreign consultant, is hopping up in the back, and Princess, our head of personnel, has the whip.
If you look very closely, you can see me in the front row. I’m the one who’s barking, and is a brown, black, and white color.
I don’t know what’s stranger; the video showing two Frenchmen catching a 250-pound catfish, or the YouTube channel dedicated to catching catfish. I might just be late to the party, but I wasn’t aware of any sort of catfish subculture. I wasn’t aware of a catfish anything. I thought catfish were left alone because they spend their days eating fishy farts and empty coke cans. I wouldn’t mess with something that could eat a coke can.
I’m not saying that we condone this sort of action over at the BSBFB — but you should totally try this at home. What’s the worst that could happen? A couple of Frenchmen might glare at you, but there’s not much they can do. I wouldn’t try this with he Russian wrestling team or the American target-shooting team because you’ll be dead before you get within 20 yards in both cases.
Ah, the French: When they’re not busy surrendering, they’re throwing themselves off of cliffs for giggles. There are many people that I know who wouldn’t oppose seeing a Frenchman thrown off a cliff. I assume they mean without a parachute, but I consider that to be inhumane. Someone would have to clean up the mess afterwards, and I can’t think of anything stinkier than a Frenchman’s giblets.