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Category: jokes

The Greatest Island — In The World

The Greatest Island — In The World


Jeremy Clarkson is a British institution. In my humble opinion, he’s on the same level as the Queen and Jack the Ripper. He’s as important to British culture as fish and chips and the Union Jack. The only English TV personality that even comes close to him is Stephen Fry, but he is a bit too posh for our tastes. And he drives around in a London taxi instead of a Maserati, so there’s that too.

Mr. Clarkson is the exact type of man-child that we appreciate over here at the BSBFB headquarters. He’s reckless, bold, brash, and painfully unhip. He dresses like your dad if your dad was completely blind and mildly demented. He likes loud, fast cars, explosions, and loud, fast women. He’s living the life we all would if we could, and it’s great fun to watch. I don’t know if I’d call him a hero, but he’s pretty darn close.

If the English had any sense they’d erect big brass statues of Jeremy Clarkson all over the countryside to honor his achievements. Hosting Top Gear for a million-and-a-half years has got to be worth a medal or two at the very least. He’s one of the greatest TV presenters — in the world.

I Know I Shouldn’t Be Laughing, But…

I Know I Shouldn’t Be Laughing, But…


… Slayer fits in with the Radio Disney vibe a bit too well. Yes, I’m well aware that they’re unsubtly singing about Josef Mengele while trying to be as metal as humanly possible, but a beard and leather pants don’t magically make you hardcore. I wouldn’t be the slightest bit surprised if they’ve guest-starred on an episode of Mickey Mouse’s Play House at one point or another. Maybe I’d think differently if the music was back to normal, but I’m not really sure at this point.

I think my Metal-o-meter is broken or something. I don’t even think I know what metal is anymore. Perhaps if we tried a different band they’d fair better.

Nope, that didn’t help. Without the context offered by the music everything seems a bit silly. I mean, the song is immeasurably improved, but it’s still not quite my cup of tea. Everyone seems to be taking themselves a bit too seriously. There’s no camp, no theatrics, and they don’t seem to be in on the joke. We’ve got to roll back the clock and roll up the hard-rockin’. Music shouldn’t be as fun as a trip to the morgue; It can be so much sillier.

That’s much better.

It’s also important to note that metal can be used for good as well. If anything get’s disgustingly poppy, you can always bring it down a few pegs with some nice blast beats. The outfits don’t change very much, and they’re all wearing the same shade of eyeliner, but at least metal makes Culture Club sort of listenable.

If You Can’t Beat ‘Em, Join ‘Em; If You Can’t Join ‘Em, Be A Nuisance Until You’re Escorted Out Of The Building

If You Can’t Beat ‘Em, Join ‘Em; If You Can’t Join ‘Em, Be A Nuisance Until You’re Escorted Out Of The Building

I’ve always had a certain fondness for Canada and its inhabitants. They’re a friendly bunch and I can appreciate that. If you’re always friendly and happy, people will start to think there’s something wrong with you and avoid you at parties, which is preferred over actually talking to anyone at said party.

The friendliness also lends an air of mystery, because you never know what lurks behind that smile. Maybe they don’t actually like hockey that much, and it’s all a ruse. What if we’re being taken on a ruse cruise by the entire country of Canada? I’m not sure what they’d actually accomplish by projecting a positive demeanor, but stranger things have happened. Maybe they’re trying to hide all the death camps in Manitoba where they send people without health insurance to work in the maple syrup mines.

Whatever you do, don’t refer to Canada as America’s hat — they get all pissy about that. Always refer to America as Canada’s shirt, and Mexico as Canada’s pants.

I, For One, Welcome Our New Robot Santa Overlords

I, For One, Welcome Our New Robot Santa Overlords

I noticed a disturbing lack of Christmas cheer over here on the old BSBFB, so I thought I’d spice things up with a nice interstellar Christmas carol. It’s no White Christmas, but it’ll have to do for now. Bing Crosby hasn’t been returning my calls for about 40 years, so I had to move on and find something to take his place.

While Chiron Beta Prime sounds about as cheerful as a syphilitic orphan, the whole Christmasy-type message is still there — I think. I don’t know, he mentioned Christmas during the beginning, and then I started watching something else, so I really couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to. It’s not my fault I have the attention span of a goldfish with ADHD. I blame it on years of high-speed Intertunnel access, and a lack of reading or writing anything that’s longer than 150 words.

Err — I mean, merry almost Christmas.