This Isn’t Flying, This Is Falling With Style

This Isn’t Flying, This Is Falling With Style

The kids are alright, you know.

Their parents walked behind them for eighteen years with a pillow and a glass of water in case they got thirsty. They made sure every T-Ball game ended in a tie, and put sunscreen on them before they’d let them open the refrigerator door and get a blast of UV from the little lightbulb in there. They cut their meat until they were shaving.

Then the kids got a driver’s license, and all bets were off. Same as it ever was.

(Thanks to mega-friend of the BSBFB, Charles Schneider, for sending that one along)

Allow Me To Translate

Allow Me To Translate

For those in the audience that aren’t fluent in Linguinebolognesepicodegallo, the official language of the Whatusi, who are the tribe that runs the Intertunnel, allow me to clue you in:

These men are throwing monkeys at pigs. The reason these men are throwing monkeys at pigs is because there are men and monkeys and pigs present. No other explanation is necessary, really; if a man is handed a monkey, he’ll throw it at a pig — it’s genetic, not learned behavior. Ask any man what he’d do with a monkey if a pig ran by. He’d answer that he’d throw the pig at the monkey — or he’d lie. There are no other answers to that question.

I can not, however, offer any explanation for the music. 

The Moral Of The Story?

The Moral Of The Story?


What’s the moral of this story? Hmmm.

I know: “Candy bars make you mighty.” No, that’s probably not it. “Bouncers are generally genial and cooperative when they get off work.” No, that probably not it either. A good offense is a great defense.” Probably not, but we’re getting warmer, I think. “One good turn deserves another.” Ooh, that’s pretty good, but not quite it. “People often begrudge others that which they cannot enjoy themselves.” Well, the robodork seems peeved. He must have been turned away at more than his share of nightclubs. We’re homing in now. “Every tale is not to be believed.” Well, this is faker than the breasts on Baywatch, but that’s not germane to the conversation.

“Australians talk funny.” Works for me. 

The Shortest Book Ever Written: Famous Skinny Czech Sumo Wrestlers

The Shortest Book Ever Written: Famous Skinny Czech Sumo Wrestlers


It’s right up there with Famous Indigent Yachtsmen, and The Big Book Of Busty Blondes That Buy Their Own Drinks.

Born Pavel Bojar, he’s now calling himself  Takanoyama Shuntarō, and he’s really only skinny for a regular ol’ sumo wrestler. He weighs 216 pounds. Takanoyama means “noble mountain” in Japanese, but he seems more of a molehill compared to the other guys.

I do not see how anyone could possibly not root for the guy in every match. He’s David to every Goliath. But after watching his method for taking on these lumbering beasts, I got to thinking: wouldn’t every offensive guard in the NFL be able to wipe the floor with any of these guys?  Except Takanoyama, of course; he’s shifty. Shifty always wins. Just ask your boss.