In A World Of Metrosexuals, The Man Who Knows How The Refrigerator Works Is A God

In A World Of Metrosexuals, The Man Who Knows How The Refrigerator Works Is A God


This dude needs a name. The “Half-A-Handy” video channel is mute on the topic. Biff Mansteak? Gronk Manstache? Denton Fender? Aubuchon Connery? His name is shrouded in the mists of antiquity, along with a summons for discharging a firearm within city limits, no doubt. Let’s call him something: John Craft!

We live in a world where women call men to kill a spider, but the men would rather pretend to be a defense attorney for arachnids than enter a room with a spider in it. “Eek!, a mouse,” is uttered by both sexes simultaneously. Men used to kill their food before they dragged it home, charred it a bit to keep it from twitching overmuch, and ate it right off the bone. Now they shave their chest hair before going out to eat at a vegetarian restaurant, and make their dates go halfsies. The male of the species is slip-sliding away.

We’ve strayed too far from our roots. Look at John Craft. He’s a god. Not The God; but A god, surely. We stopped parting our hair like a missing, fourth Stooge. Jeans didn’t used to come with dirt on them already, you know. The John Crafts of the world put it on there by crawling around under their cars in their driveways. There was nothing wrong with the car, mind you; they just liked it under there. All our shirts looked like they only needed an embroidered name tag to start working at a muffler shop, just like our hero. We had magnificent tool boxes, filled with nothing but hammers and screwdrivers and gumption, and animated by the knowledge that anything we couldn’t fix we could fix so no one else could, either. We were legend. We were gods. We were John Craft.

Craft!
Who’s the white handy hick
That’s a sex machine to all the chicks?
(Craft!) You’re damn right
Who is the man
That defrosts the fridge for his brother man?
(Craft!) Can ya dig it?
Who’s the cat that won’t cop out
When there’s freon all about?
(Craft!) Right on
You see this cat Craft is a handy mother… (Shut your mouth)
But I’m talkin’ about Craft (Then we can dig it)
He’s a complicated man And no one understands him but his glue gun
(John Craft)

Why? Because Russia, That’s Why

Why? Because Russia, That’s Why

It must be marvelous to live in the wreckage of the Soviet Union. It used to be a buttoned-down icebox of Stalinist rules. Now no one cares what the hell you’re up to. If anyone asks, just say, “Because Russia.”

This little maneuver might seem a tad, well, ill-advised to an outsider. But it’s a country where playing bumper cars with econoboxes is the de facto national sport. “Tonight on Dashcam Derby, Ivor is going to get two wheels up on the guardrail and pass a helicopter that’s flying down the hammer lane for some reason, and a giant truck loaded with Chernobyl salvage lumbering down the breakdown lane on four flat tires, and on the right-hand side, too. He’s drunk of course. He’s awake! Duh. Go Ivor! Oh, dear, that ended badly. Next! Because Russia!”

Sure, pitch yourself off a building after lighting your MC Hammer pants afire and land in a disreputable looking pile of snow. Why not? Because Russia! It’s probably safer than staying on the building, which looks like it was built by pigs expecting a wolf. In Russia they dish out polonium enemas to guys that wouldn’t get a sternly worded letter in America. Why wait for something bad to happen to you? Make something bad happen to you! Just make sure someone’s filming it, and you’re instantly the David O Farkin Selznick of YouTube. Why? Because Russia!

(thanks to Gerard at American Digest for sending that one along. Because Borderline!)

The Most Interesting Man In The World Is The Second-Most-Interesting Man In The World

The Most Interesting Man In The World Is The Second-Most-Interesting Man In The World

You know the Germans make good stuff…

The Most Interesting Man In The World  can’t carry the Supergeil Guy’s jock. The Most Interesting Man In The World is stuck in the self-checkout lane in Supergeil Guy’s supermarket, dragging his foodstuffs over the barcode reader over and over trying to get them to register, while Supergeil Guy is fondled by all the cashiers. Supergeil Guy sweats Viagra and exhales pheromones.

Ernest Hemingway shot himself because he owed Supergeil Guy money, and Supergeil Guy was coming to collect. True story.

Every Event At The Winter Olympics Is Half As Interesting As This, Max

Every Event At The Winter Olympics Is Half As Interesting As This, Max


That’s just our official Borderline Blog For Boys rating for “interesting”. If you want to compare this video to the Olympics for fun, whether for the participants or the spectators, it’s going to be a blowout win for Snowlercoaster.

Half the events in the winter Olympics involve sliding downhill. They’re boring. They’re dreary. They’ve had all the fun beaten out of them. The BSBFB hereby demands that the sporting world bring back fun.