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Wednesday, December 28, 2005

The Big Damn Joke

Ordinarily, here at Big Damn Funny we don't tell jokes, per se. We attempt to be humorous (with varying degrees of success) but we don't tell out and out jokes.

We decided to craft one great joke. The plan was to put our heads together and write one instant classic one-of-a-kind joke. No matter how long it took.

We've spent months on this bad boy. We think we finally have a classic.

When we first read it aloud, Jason laughed so hard he actually peed himself (which was fine because he always wears a catheter....it's a personal choice of his and we try not to judge).

Victoria giggled off and on for about three hours. Then she passed out.

Ryan is still a big fucking rock star so he hasn't heard the joke yet.

J.D. had a look of confusion for about two minutes, then suddenly burst into hysterical laughter (he's kind of slow).

Well...here it goes. Strap on your safety harnesses 'cause this mean boy has some kick.

Aw shit. The ink ran.

Wait. The internet doesn't even use ink. Now I'm just confused.

I would type it all out again, but I'm way too lazy. I guess you will never know the joke.

Sucks to be you.

Thursday, December 15, 2005

More Little Known Facts

An addendum to the earlier list of Little Known Facts.

It's a little known fact that my penis is 44 inches long. Unfortunately, 3 feet of that can only be seen or felt in the 14th dimension.

It's a little known fact the city of houston was first named "archieville" but after many complaints that the name didnt fit on mugs or magnets it was changed.

It's a little known fact all 182 workers who died while making the brooklyn bridge were named Mike.

It's a little known fact on the 3rd christmas ever 3 girls froze to death waiting for santa on their roof and a bystander simply remarked "thats science"

It's a little known fact that the reason Rudolph's nose lit up so bright to guide the sleigh at night was a quite virulent strain of syphilis. He died shortly thereafter.

It's a little known fact on the 10th day of each month the vice president eats a still beating human heart to gain their warrior spirit.

It's a little known fact the day before Archduke Franz Ferdinand was killed he scored a perfect game of Pinochle.

It's a little know fact the origin of the nickname "crayfish" was first used after Lincoln's death in which the doctor yelled "cray of fish" at the bloody mess.

It's a little known fact the last words of Vladimir Ilyich Lenin were "you gonna eat that?".

It's a little known fact that Daffy Duck's original name was Douglas The Goofy Bastard but test audiences found the name offensive.

Its a little known fact that the song Purple People Eater is based upon a true story.

It's a little known fact that when the paper shredder first debuted at the World's Fair, many papers got up and left the room quite upset.

It's a little known fact that beer bellies are effective protection against the undead, because if a flesh-eating zombie shows up at your party, why not let him eat that extra twenty pounds? Its win-win, baby.

It's a little known fact that the world's first mobster was really quite bored until other mobsters showed up for him to whack.

It's a little known fact that all midgets are actually time travelers who come from a distant future where ceilings are very low.

It's a little known fact that the oldest known woman, after convicted of high treason, could not be convicted by a jury of her peers because of her extreme age, so several monkeys and a couple of local cows presided over her trial. She was then promptly hanged after being found mooooooooooo on all charges.

It's a little known fact that before each episode of the Price is Right, Bob Barker warms up by saying, "Now bring on the bomb ass punani!"

It's a little known fact that in the Farmer's Almanac of 1972, that the weather for May 20th called for rain, clouds, and a chance of global thermonuclear war.

It's a little known fact that the arch-nemesis of the Polar Bear is the Equatorial Bear.

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

Bars: A Review

In today's society, there are myriad different sorts of alcoholic establishments.

Sports Bar - Filled mostly with two sorts of patron: the jock and the former jock. We really aren't in favor of the sports bar. We have better things to do than listen to a bunch of dudes who "could've been a contender". The older dudes talk about how these athletes today have it soft compared to what it was like in their day. You know, back when they walked to and from school in the snow, uphill both ways.

Tit Bar - Not really a popular place to go on a date. It does, however, have its advantages. At the tit club, you know the chicks are just after your money...unlike a regular bar where you may be dumb enough to think the ladies find you funny and attractive. We like the titties as much as the next guy (or girl) but the main problem with this kind of joint is that it is difficult to just have a drink. It's really interesting and, dare I say it...fascinating, that someone can pick up a quarter using only her labia...but, frankly, I'm trying to have a drink here and that is fucking up my shit. That being said, however, having a roomful of naked chicks is the realization of all your adolescent dreams. Plus - roomful of naked titties! Damn!

Crappy Shithole - The best! Once you get past the drug dealers, lack of safety, and questionable sanitation...they are a great place to have a drink. Everyone minds their own business. Unless, of course, they are provoked (although provocation doesn't take much in a joint like this). The music is usually good and the bar hookers are quite often capable of good to mediocre conversation. Our favorite part is the company. Where else do you have 68 year olds drinking - not because they enjoy it - but, instead, to chase the dark evil demons away?

A-List Bar (a.k.a. preppy bar) - Depends upon your taste. If you like overpriced drinks, easy sex, and stupid fights...this may very well be your place! We just question the entertainment level of any place where the patrons are too busy looking into the mirror to actually have a good time.

College Bar - If you are still in college...awesome! If not, they kinda suck. Anyone living in the real world gets annoyed by listening to cheesy existential conversation, rampant giggling, and a complete lack of practical knowledge. Plus...fuck Dave Matthews. Seriously. He's making the Baby Jesus weep.

Big Damn Bar (fictional) - A thin slice of heaven. The juke box never plays every song by a specific artist in sequential order. Plus...no new country. Cash, Jennings, Nelson (the older stuff), and Hank senior....we'll let those slide. But the new shit? That stuff can eat our collective asses. Boston Red Sox? On all the time. Metallica? Limited to three songs per hour. Bartenders? Yeah...they're hot.

Basically, most bars blow. Wait for the Big Damn Bar (now open for sponsorship. Think about it).

Sports Bar - Rating: D+
Tit Bar - Rating: B+
Crappy Shithole - Rating: B
Preppy Bar - Rating: D
College Bar - Rating: C-
Big Damn Bar - Rating: A

Monday, December 12, 2005

15 Really Bad Pick-Up Lines

1. Do you want to fuck or should I apologize?

2. Wanna see my penis?

3. Are you a hooker? Because I would totally pay to fuck you.

4. Let's have some sex. Or maybe just cuddle. Do you want to cuddle?

5. Sometimes I think that the high priest Gifantor from the planet Glaxor 5 can read my thoughts. If so, right now he is seeing me picturing doing naughty things to you.

6. I don't really want to go home and masturbate tonight. How about a pity fuck?

7. You look exactly like my ex-girlfriend. I never really got over her. Wanna make out?

8. I got a book on the Kama Sutra. Wanna try out some moves? If not, I have playstation...maybe we could play some Grand Theft Auto. And then have sex. Or just play Grand Theft Auto. Naked. Or maybe fully clothed. Your choice. I'm easy.

9. You're kinda pretty. Wanna make some amateur porn?

10. Have you ever wondered if maybe there is no real point or purpose to life? That maybe we are just some highly sentient monkeys floating around in the ether. That's kind of depressing. Let's have sex.

11. Are those real? Can I see them?

12. If you want to come back to my place I have, like, a shitload of porn.

13. Let's go back to my place. I'll bet I can make you orgasm in three minutes. If not, I'll already be asleep so you can go ahead and slip out to make fun of me to all your friends. Try not to wake me, OK?

14. Are those space pants? Because your ass is out of this world...no seriously. I really want to have sex with you.

15. If you do me, I promise I won't brag. Nobody ever has to know. Except Teddy. He sleeps in the bed with me. I'll make him look away, though. What do you say?

Saturday, December 10, 2005

Adulthood: A Review

Cast your mind back many a moon and recall when you were young and ignorant enough to believe that adulthood was the golden ticket. The one thought that carried you through the various ass-beatings by upperclassmen in school was the idea that one day when you were all grown up...you would show those assholes.

Well, here you are. Not what you thought it would be, is it?

The concept of adulthood always gave rise to the notion of complete freedom. No curfews, no parental regulations, no teaches, etc.

What a steamy crock of shit.

The same rules apply now that did back then...only now it is your employer making the rules and they are probably even dumber than the childhood regulations.

Running around and being a cool adult is pretty much not going to happen. Now as an adult it is your job to hide your adult nature to "protect the children". No porn for you, my good man!

The same women are still harshing your mojo, too. The cheerleader who never gave you the time of day is now the co-worker who laughs at your 2000 Geo Storm.

Who would have ever thought you would need Rogaine?

Remember when you thought being an adult meant poon-a-plenty? Nope. It's probably easier for the tombone player in a high school marching band to get some ass. At least there are other loser chicks in band.

Did you ever think you would be voluntarily watching C-Span?

When you got your first job at sixteen, you ignorantly assumed that having an income would allow you to do whatever you wanted with your new found purchasing power.


The truth is, you and your friends have shifts that conflict so much you haven't seen each other in months. Plus, in all your rampant stupidity, you immediately maxed out your new credit card so your next 15,000 paychecks are going straight to the good people at Visa. In retrospect, owning the entire DVD collections of South Park, The Simpsons, and The Family Guy probably wasn't the best investment. You can't eat comedy.

Those Viagra ads are getting less and less funny with each passing day, aren't they?

Remember when you thought masturbation was just a temporary stopgap until you become an adult at which point the poon would flow like wine?

Nope. You better take good care of that hand. It is the only real friend you have.

Do you recall back when being a rockstar seemed like a viable life choice?

Being an adult sucks. You never get to enjoy the shit you want because "you're an adult now". Apparently, adults don't get to read Batman comic books. Adults aren't supposed to laugh at dick and fart jokes, either. That will curtail any chance of getting laid you ever had....and the chance was always slim at best.

Staying up late watching Monty Python DVDs won't win much poon either.

Cartoons? Step away, chief. No woman in the western hemisphere is gonna allow that to happen.

What's all this shit about "having a life plan"? My plan was to not work and hang out with my friends. No one seems to be hiring for that position.

I don't mean to sound like a whiny bitch, but what happened to recess? Why couldn't we reinstate that?

How about nap time? Whou couldn't use some nap time? I believe we could attain world piece if we all had 45 minutes each afternoon for a little sleepytime.

There is one perk, though. I can walk into any bar and drink my sorrows away.

I'm gonna go take a nap.

Adulthood - Rating: D

Thursday, December 8, 2005

Nature: A Review

Nature. Hippies and other tree-hugging types are often going on and on about how great it is. Is it really?

BDF decided to investigate.

First off, there is no way in hell I am going to actually go camping or anything like that. I am a huge fan of central air and indoor plumbing. So camping is just out.

Instead, I have decided to spend a few leisurely hours in my front yard.

I'll go do that now.

OK. I gotta tell you. That was an incredibly bad idea. One time I told a guy who outweighed me by about fifty pounds that he could go fuck himself. That was a much better idea than this whole nature thing.

I began by sitting near a tree in the yard. The sun was shining and I had a nice Camel light going to help block the harmful effects of unfiltered nature air. Dogs and birds fart outside. I'm not going to risk breathing that stuff.

Soon enough, a cute little woodland creature of the squirrel persuasion began meandering my way. I put my cigarette out on the ground and reached my left hand out towards him. He looked fuzzy so I thought he might be fun to pet. Maybe we could bond and I could carry him around in my pocket. It would make for a really good conversation starter. At least, that is what was going through my mind at the time.

As the little guy neared me, I heard a strange sound from above. Looking up, I was greeting with the awe inspiring vision of a bird relieving himself (or herself...I don't know how you tell with birds). Unfortunately, the bird shit landed dead in my left eye.

I don't know if you have ever experienced this particular facet of nature...but that shit burns. A lot.

With the fury burning through my cornea, apparently I began flailing madly. I think the poor squirrel took this as a threat. In any case, he decided at that moment that his best course of action would be to sink his tiny jaws into my hand.

Seriously. Those little bastards have some really sharp teeth. This is something that I was wholly unaware of. Memo to Disney: Chip and Dale are far from accurate representations of these woodland hooligans.

After shaking the squirrel loose (which in actuality required bashing his tiny fuzzy form against the aforementioned tree repeatedly until unconsciousness took him) I ran inside to get a band-aid.

As I type this, I am noticing that the bite mark is rapidly turning a strange shade of purple. Much akin to the wardrobe Prince wore during his Purple Rain era.

Man...now that was a sweet movie. Occasionally it turns up on weekend television. Who would have thought that a dude with a jibungous pompadour and an outfit from the colonial era could get so much tail in Minnesota? Note to self: Minnesota is cool.

OK. I am beginning to notice that a strange and warm sensation is overcoming me. Slight feelings of the delusional type are filling my head.

Have you ever made an entire diorama of the Last Supper using only potatoes and dry macaroni? Me neither, but I am suddenly overcome with the desire to do so.

I think I should probably go to the hospital now.

Nature - Rating: F

Saturday, December 3, 2005

Why I Like Winter

Timmy Smith outlines his love of winter.

Little Known Facts

It's a little known fact that Russel Crowe carries around garlic in his pocket to ward off vampires and sea sprites, both of which are pretty common in December.

It's a little known fact that former members of Menudo are forced to jump off cliffs like lemmings at the age of thirty, so as not to confuse Latin children as to how many people actually make up the band Menudo.

It's a little known fact that I have a security blanket that I call Nuggles, and that I still sleep with it on cold nights, or whenever Transformers are on.

It's a little known fact that Santa Claus is able to deliver presents to all the good children of the world only because of his severe addiction to cocaine.

It's a little known fact that both NASCAR and NAMBLA were founded by Judy Garland as a tax defferment during the Great Depression.

It's a little known fact that cremated corpses can be rolled up and smoked like fatties, and that the street value of a well burnt corpse is over 500 euros in the south of France.

It's a little known fact that the word 'sports' comes from the Latin SpermatozoaPantaloonos, which was then shortened to "SPerm shORTS," or sports.

It's a little known fact that panty raids often end in death.

It's a little known fact that sometimes I sit on my hand until it falls asleep and then I pleasure myself with "the stranger". But only when I'm watching The Golden Girls. Otherwise it would be just plain weird.

It's a little known fact that if you play the Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon....with Kevin Bacon, he shows you his penis at the end.

It's a little known fact that the Olsen Twins are actually highly sophisticated cyborgs whose original purpose was the domination of the country via their tween audience. Unfortunately, eating disorders and a rampant love of fame have derailed the original goal.

It's a little known fact that stapling a hymen above your bedpost will actually attract virgins running through your apartment complex.

It's a little known fact that a small percentage (approximately 2%) of people who get LASIK surgery find that six to eight weeks after the procedure, they develop the ability to see into the future. Unfortunately, it wears off three months later.

It's a little known fact that most Bibles in hotel rooms leave out the part where Jesus takes a few years off and starts a rock band called 'Shaggy and the Apostles'.

It's a little known fact that during the making of the hit movie, 'Three Men and a Baby', the child actor who played 'the Baby' was accidentally left in an aquarium for four solid weeks, just enough time for the child to learn to fend for itself, and start a new life under the sea, away from the prying eyes of the landpeople.

Friday, December 2, 2005

I Feel Bad For My Wife

I feel really bad for my wife. I'm not going to give you a bunch of bullshit reasons like "life isn't fair" or "her job isn't fulfilling enough".

I feel bad for my wife because she has to be married to me.

Some examples:

The Pudding

So before I went to the grocery, I asked Victoria if there was anything she would like. She told me she dug pudding. Upon further prodding, she told me that she really dug butterscotch.

I'm grocery shopping. I'm in the pudding aisle. I'm looking at my list. I see the kind she asked for. I'm looking over the shelves. I grab a package. I go home.

Now I hand her this package of like eight containers of pudding. I'm all proud of myself...like a kid who gathers up a bunch of shit in an upside-down frisbee and presents it to his mom as a pie.

And just like a patient loving mother would respond to that idiot child with the shit-pie, Victoria smiled and told me how happy she was and ate one of the containers of pudding.

About two days later she admitted that I got the wrong fucking pudding.

The Demon Gas

We were laying with the dogs on the couch and Murphy just let loose with a fart. Nay, fart is too small a word to describe the heinous odor eminating from his posterior. This poor boy was conjuring up some demons from the very depths of Hades. My head happened to be closer to him than Victoria was.

That smell fucked me up. Bad. My eyes teared up. I did your basic "Oh, Motherfucker! What the...?"

"What?" Victoria asked.

"Murphy just let fly with the nastiest fart I have ever had the misfortune of smelling" (which is way more verbose than I actually was at the time. I probably mumbled something about "fart...breathe....near death")

At this point, some level of my brain decided to make a joke...but said brain was hazed over with demon fart. What I said was "Jesus...it was so bad....I think I saw the future."

Now, I'll admit. I don't know what the hell that even means. I don't now, I didn't then. I even finished the statement with "Wait...I don't even know what that means." Which of course struck me as utterly hilarious. I laughed for about twenty minutes. Why? I really can't tell you. Maybe it was the toxic effect of the demon gas permeating my pre-frontal lobe.

Two hours later, Victoria and I are snuggled up and suddenly that pops back into my mind. What began as a small giggle culminated in my going off on a laughing jag for what was easily a half an hour.

Victoria, bless her, just held me and gave me this faraway look of infinite sadness...which I immediately recognized as the terror of the dawning realization that she married a man who has very special needs.

At that exact moment, my wife finally realized that she had married an idiot.

The Crime Spree

There was that time when I went on a fourteen state crime spree because I was pissed at her for washing the whites with the colors.

OK. I made that one up.

Seriously, though. I feel bad for my wife.

Thursday, November 24, 2005

Long Awaited Answers To Musical Queries

Hello, is it me you're looking for? - Hello
Nope. I was actually waiting for the pizza guy.

Why can't this be love? - Why Can't This Be Love
Perhaps it is because I neither like nor respect you. Maybe it isn't love when you bring someone home for a simply quick roll in the hay. Or it could just be that you are a stalker.

What's so funny 'bout peace, love, and understanding? - (What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love And Understanding
It isn't that it is funny, per se. Merely that it is kind of silly hippie nonsense, you know? How can I take you seriously when you talk like that?

How do I breathe without you? - How Do I Live
I don't know. Perhaps some vicks vapor rub and an humidifier. That usually works.

When you close your eyes, do you dream about me? - When You Close Your Eyes
No, actually I dream about being naked and being forced to give a report in grade school. Sometimes I can fly. It's weird.

If I don’t need you then why am I crying on my bed? - If You're Not The One
Quite possibly because you are a pussy-assed little bitch.

What would you do if my heart was torn in two? - More Than Words
I'd probably be freaked out. That's some Friday The 13th type shit there. Seriously.

Why in the world Would anybody put chains on me? - Easy
I don't know. Did you commit a crime or something? I mean, if you are in prison, chains and shit kind of go with it. Otherwise, I would say that maybe someone want's to do some S&M shit with you.

Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? - Bohemian Rhapsody
Man, I hope this is real life. If my fantasies are this boring that would suck mucho grande.

Are you lonesome tonight? Do you miss me tonight? Are you sorry we drifted apart? - Are You Lonesome Tonight?
Whoa. Slow down there, Elvis. Let's take these one question at a time. No, I'm not lonesome. No, I don't miss you. The reason I'm not lonesome is that I am married...and not to you, buddy. Drifted apart? When the hell did we drift together? I think maybe you are a stalker like that "Why can't this be love" guy. Seriously. Lay off.

Wednesday, November 23, 2005

Lost Novel of Ernest Hemingway

Many great novelists have work published posthumously. Often times, it isn't the best work which is why it never saw the light of day during the writer's lifetime.

Other times, we are given a glimpse of what could have been. Just a teasing sample of the work we will never truly see.

Some of Ernest Hemingway's journals have been discovered recently. Scholars have found a tantalizing look at an adventure novel he was preparing.

It is believed that this was something he struggled with from his teenage years onward.

Unfortunately, at this time only a small fragment of chapter 14 exists.

Obviously, this small scrap of a larger whole raises many questions:

What happened between man and beast deep in that jungle?

What level of eroticism did this all lead to?

And frankly, what the hell kind of story was Hemingway trying to write here?

These are all questions that are impossible to answer at this juncture. We can only hope that scholars will discover more about this lost tale of adventure and intrigue.

As always in cases like this, there are those who claim that this is not the work of Hemingway at all. That it is obviously just a brief passage scribbled on two small pieces of notebook paper by someone who isn't Hemingway. Probably while drunk.

To the naysayers, we will simply state the following: Fuck off. You are ruining our article.

We prefer to believe that this is a scrap of a greater Hemingway masterpiece lost to the ages. Additionally, we hope that Jimmy got the upper hand with that horny monkey.

Monday, November 21, 2005

Idiotic Shit I Believed When I Was A Child

Children don't really understand the world around them. Consequently, often times they create a whole new reality in their heads. This faux-reality should go away as one gets older. Otherwise you end up being John Hinkley or Charles Manson. That rarely works out well.

The following are some idiotic things I thought when I was a child.

Black and White World

Based on televised and photographic evidence I had compiled, I was convinced the entire world was black and white until about 1963. Then everything magically turned color. I would ask my mother what the world was like before color. She would usually just ignore me.

X-Ray Vision

If you hold your hand in front of your right eye and allow yourself to focus both eyes on an object just past your hand...it sort of appears that you are looking through a hole in your hand. Yeah....I thought I had X-ray vision for awhile there. Of course, in my defense, I was watching a lot of episodes of Superman so it seemed a viable power to have. Luckily, I never tried to fly.

Conditional Existence

For a brief time, I operated under the delusion that the existence of television shows was wholly dependent upon me observing them. Hence, if I didn't watch a particular television show that day...it simply never aired. That particular fantasy quickly crumbled when I heard others discussing watching something that I had yet to see. Clearly, time and television wait for no man. Not even me.

Water Filtration

After viewing commercials about water filters you can install on your tap, my sister and I set out to build one. Millions of dollars were soon to follow our great creation. Basically, we took two dixie cups and cut the bottoms out. The we poked a shitload of holes in a piece of paper and placed it between the cups. At this point, we would pour water through one cup, down through the holey paper, finally exiting the other cup. We were convinced the water tasted worlds better. No one else agreed. Additionally, we never sold our water filter and the millions we dreamt of are now lining someone else's pockets. Someone with an actual degree in some form of science.

Indians Among Us

I watched a great deal of Westerns on Saturday afternoons. Before cable television, the few channels that existed merely showed old movies on weekend afternoons. A steady diet of westerns convinced me that there were shitloads of Indians laying wait in any nearby wooded area. I was always afraid I would stumble onto a teepee or two and not know what to do (the old movies didn't exactly paint Native Americans in a flattering fashion...and I was a dumb kid). In my later teenage years, I tried to recruit some friends to actually do this (dress up like stereotypical Indians and hide in the woods) and scare the hell out of hikers. Nobody would do it. Buncha pussies.

Substance Abuse

When I was a child, I was convinced that drinking, smoking, etc. were very bad and I would never ever participate in anything like that. I was mistaken. Whoops.

In my adulthood, I rarely believe anything so outrageously idiotic as the things I believed as a child. I now understand the world better. I now know that the government has my best interest at heart. JFK was killed by a consortium of Italian mobsters, aliens, and CIA officials. The fluoride in the water is a CIA mind control device. George W. Bush is the greatest President in history and he really really cares about black people.

See. I'm not gullible at all anymore.

Sunday, November 20, 2005

Closing Arguments

Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, you have only one decision you could possibly reach and that is simply that my client is innocent.

My client barely knew the women who was killed that night. He concedes that he may have had sex with her once or fourteen times...but he never even knew her last name! Wouldn't you think someone would bother to learn a person's last name before bludgeoning that person to death? I would!

Not that I would bludgeon anyone to death. I'm just saying.

I may have dropped the ball a little on the whole fingerprint evidence thing. I truly thought our fingerprint "expert" was an actual expert. As it turns out, Tom Hanks actually had nothing to do with this event and we sincerely apologize for inferring that it did.

Believe me, that is the last time I let my cousin Frank talk me into using one of his "expert" poker buddies. But I digress.

Sure, the prosecution has thrown "DNA" evidence at you to place my client at the scene of the tragedy. But what is this "DNA" anyway?

Have you ever seen any "DNA"? I haven't. I don't know what it looks like, what it symbolizes, what it's hopes and dreams are. I don't even know what party this elusive "DNA" even votes for. And in this time of great turmoil in our country, I'd like to know which side this "DNA" is on: us or them. Know what I mean?

Additionally, my client makes some damn fine macramé art. That ought to count for something. Ever heard of a murderer who works in macramé? Nope. Me neither.

Across the board, the prosecution has completely failed to make their case.

Except for the fingerprint stuff.

And that whole "DNA" thing, which I am still pretty skeptical about and I believe you should be, too.

In any case, remember the macramé.


You must acquit.


Thursday, November 10, 2005

Big Damn Poetry, Redux

For your intellectual and artistic edification, we offer a few more choice and tasty morsels of poetics.

Ode To My Package

My Junk has many powers
Some I've yet to discover.
It often waters flowers.
My wife can make it hover.

Cheesy Stuff

If I only had some cheesy stuff
my popcorn would have flavor.
I'd like to have some cheese popcorn,
A taste that I could savor.

If I only had some cheesy stuff,
then I could cheese my corn.
I'd eat up all my cheesy stuff
and then I'd watch some porn.


Condom, oh, condom
How you protect my cock.
Condom, oh, condom
For when I'm hard as a rock.

You protect me through sex
and even earthquakes.
Oh, what a difference
A prophylactic makes.

Condom, oh, condom
I put you on my stick.
Condom, oh, condom
The best friend of a dick.

Ramses, Trojan, Magnum.
They all work good as gold.
Ribbed or lubricated,
don't let them get too old.

Tuesday, November 8, 2005

How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria

1. Feed her. Maybe she's hungry.

2. Buy her something shiny and expensive. It might distract her.

3. Take her to a movie.

4. Kill the bitch.

5. Boot camp.

6. Family Counsiling.

7. Chop up her credit cards.

8. Lock the bitch up in a nunnery.

9. Take away her car keys.

10. Put her on medication to stop all that singing and spinning on mountaintops.

11. Plastic Surgery.

12. Give her an imaginary friend to buy yourself some peace and quiet.

13. Make her take piano lessons.

14. Threaten her.

15. Lock her up in a medium sized metal box and stash it under the staircase.

For those of you who didn't get the reference, it is a song from The Sound of Music...which is on television every year. Get with it, man.

Monday, November 7, 2005

Blogging on World Domination

Some excerpts from Tyler McGee's blog about world domination.

9/9/2005 5:48 pm

OK. A few of us have been talking and we have decided to pool our resources and put together an elite team with an aim towards world domination.

Obviously, we will have to start small. Possibly take over a Canadian province or something. I've heard those guys don't fight well. Too nice, and whatnot.

Anyway, I am working on a list of things to be acheived. I will post it soon.

9/12/2005 1:12 am

Here is the list I mentioned earlier.

Shit to achieve upon world domination:

1. All religions will be combined into one: Jedi

2. No longer answer to "hey you", "dork", "nerd", "fanboy", or "asshole". I will be known as Jedi Supreme. (You guys can pick your own names.)

3. Make my Mom start showing me some fucking respect.

4. Move out of my mom's basement. (Seriously. You guys should, too. Except you Denis. Move out of your Dad's place. We know your mother died earlier this year and I didn't mean to reopen that wound. Sorry.)

5. The Sci-Fi channel will expand to five channels:
The Star Wars Channel
The Star Trek Channel
The Battlestar Galactica Channel
The Hot and Horny Ladies of Sci-Fi Channel
The Regular Sci-Fi Channel.

6. Have some sex. (Don't laugh. I'm not the only one thinking about this.)

7. Kick Dad's ass.

8. All restaurants will be Taco Bell...just like in Demolition Man.

9. Get in shape with a personal trainer. If that fails, unilaterally declare that fat is the new thin.

I am open to any ideas about other entries on the list.

9/14/2005 7:58 pm

OK. The list seemed to meet most everyone's approval (Sorry, Denis, your "improvements" sucked and will not be incorporated into any future revisions).

This Friday (16th) we will meet at Denny's to discuss strategy.

Additionally, I will probably get down on a Grand Slam Breakfast. Those things are great. Two of everything. It is like if Noah made breakfast. So balanced!

9/17/2005 2:56 am

OK. The turnout for the strategy meeting was more than a little disappointing.

If you guys aren't planning on coming, you could at least let me know.

The Grand Slam Breakfast was fucking awesome. You guys missed out.

9/20/2005 6:57 pm

OK. After a few long, and not always polite, conversations with a few of the guys, we have decided to change course ever so slightly.

We will now focus on putting together a musical version of The Creature From The Black Lagoon.

Everyone meet in my Mom's basement tomorrow for rehearsals and coffee.

9/22/2005 1:17 am

OK. Seriously. If you assholes aren't going to show up for anything you could at least let me know.


I made a shitload of coffee for nothing. Bastards.

9/22/2005 3:28 am

Screw it.

The world domination plan is back on.

And Denis...you don't get to join. Asshole.

Sunday, November 6, 2005

Sock Monkey: An Artform

There were many talented, and even great, painters in the 20th century. Most of them had one thing in common.

It wasn't the medium: some used oils...others used watercolors....yet others used acrylic.

It wasn't the style: the century brought us cubism, abstract expressionism, fauvism, dada, etc.

It wasn't even a passion for the comedy stylings of Benny Hill: although curiously, very many painters of various backgrounds did find the portly comedian quite amusing.

No. It was....sock monkeys.

Almost every major artist at some point experienced his sock monkey period.

Pablo Picasso dabbled with sock monkeys during his cubism period.

Socky (1911)

Note the lifeless eyes and yet playful lips.

There is a vivid and strange combination of mirth and death within this painting.

He also did some monkeys in his blue period, but those kind of sucked.

It is believed that Jackson Pollock also dabbled in sock monkeys, although if he did it is almost impossible to tell from his work.

Henri Matisse worked with the monkey off and on throughout his various art periods.

His fauvist sock monkeys, while absolutely breathtaking, are all owned by private collectors and rarely appear in any collections of his work.

As is the pictured dancing monkey from his collage "Jazz" era.

Jazz Monkey (1942)

Note the sweep and hint of movement from the shadowy monkey playing in the night. Wonderful!

Jean-Michel Basquiat created three notable sock monkey paintings.

All three are in private collections, but we were able to provide one.

Much like his more famous "Irony of the Negro Policeman" and "Famous Negro Athletes", the one featured here "Negro Sock Monkey" was from his early to mid 1980's black history period.

Negro Sock Monkey (1982)


Although we searched high and low, we were unable to discover any work from the "sock monkeys playing poker" genre. This genre was quite popular in the early 1940's, but quickly made way for the more expressionistic sock monkeys which followed. These days, most examples of "sock monkeys playing poker" can be found in basements and flea markets.

The next time you see a lonely sock monkey sitting on a table at a garage sale, don't snicker. Don't giggle at his bland relatively non-simian looking self.

Think about what that visage has brought to so many artists. Ponder the impact that icon has played in the art world.

And then buy him. They are really snuggly.

Saturday, November 5, 2005

Lies I Have Told

I once convinced a vegetarian that croutons were made out of dolphins. She almost threw up the half-eaten salad she was consuming when I threw out this piece of nonsense. Sorry, ex-vegetarian friend.

Gunshot Wound
Once, while drunk, five of us were filled with intoxicated testosterone and began discussing various wounds received during the manly art of combat. One guy showed some scars from where he was stabbed. Attempting to one up him, I claimed to have been shot in the stomach. When pressed for more details, I lifted my shirt and feigned shock that the scar had apparently gone away. Two people continued to believe me. I blame the booze.

Vegetarian Fish
My sister flopped down on the couch next to me as I was eating dinner one night. She reached over to snatch some of my food. In a feeble attempt to stop her, I told her she wouldn't like it because it was vegetarian. I was eating fish. She believed me. Vegetarian fish. I don't really feel too badly about that one, because she shouldn't have believed something so stupid.

When I was in Kindergarten, I convinced one of my classmates that I was an alien robot sent to Earth to monitor him. He cried a great deal. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of choosing to tell this lie on parent's day. With his mother a mere four feet away, it didn't take long for me to be shown to the hallway and reprimanded sternly. That kid never talked to me again.

I really hate telephone salesmen. Usually, I look at the caller ID before answering the phone, but in this instance I forgot to check. It was a salesman. A particularly pushy salesman. I suddenly blurted out that I was beginning to bleed from my rectum and probably needed to seek medical care immediately. I hope he didn't have weird nightmares after that. Sorry, phone guy.

Rodeo Clown
During one Christmas season, I bumped into someone I went to high school with. She told me how she went to law school and was now a big lawyer in D.C. At this point, she asked me what I had done since school. I didn't think "jack shit" would be a very good answer. For some reason, I blurted out "rodeo clown". Once it was out there, I knew I was screwed so I had to just go with it. I elaborated on how my life had been in shambles before I began rodeo clowning and how the zen-like calm found within the confines of the barrel has brought me a level of peace I had never know before. You could see the look of pity in her eyes. If I ever see her again, I'm going to tell her I gave it all up to become a private investigator.

Joe Nameth
I convinced some of my friends I knew Joe Nameth. When pressed, I was forced to fake illness so Joe would come meet me. My father gave me a stern lecture about honesty and responsibility. Wait. That wasn't me....that was Bobby Brady. Nevermind.

See. I even tried to tell a lie for that last one.

Mea Culpa

Wednesday, November 2, 2005

15 More Egregiously Bad Opening Sentences

An addendum to our earlier 15 Egregiously Bad Opening Sentences.

1. After travelling for what seemed like hours, I pulled the El Camino over to the shoulder of the road. Bud pulled the cigarette from his mouth and said "yep, this seems like a good place to dump those dead hookers and rodeo clowns."

2. Walking past an alley, he noticed a woman being robbed by three swarthy men. Growing excited, Chip realized that this was his chance. He began farting madly.

3. Cornered by the three angry bikers, I suddenly realized that studying karate would have been a better way to spend the last three years of my life. Less so, haberdashery. I was screwed.

4. At that moment, I realized all those know-it-all fuckers were right. There was no way in hell I was going to get that squirrel out of my rectum without some serious medical assistance.

5. The third time I had vigorous sex with that week old watermelon I began to feel a little dirty.

6. As I wrapped the three dead hookers in plastic and deposited them in the trunk of my stolen Honda, I suddenly remembered that I had three overdue books from the library sitting on the kitchen counter. Additionally, there was a shitload of blood.

7. Unfortunately, I had walked for three blocks before I realized I had left my penis at the ATM machine. I would definitely have to go back.

8. When the beating stopped, I reached up and wiped the blood from my eyes. It will never cease to be amazed by the insane power of my three-year-old niece's overhand right.

9. Out of the corner of his eye, Newton noticed movement. It was that damn rodeo clown again. The fucker was following him.

10. "No, Fuck You," I shouted. My three-year-old niece simply wept softly in reply.

11. Persperation trickled down his forehead as Slaps McGee frantically tried to decide whether to cut the blue wire or the red one. Finally making a decision, he cut the blue wire. The display went dark. Two minutes later, Slaps realized that all he had done was successfully broken an alarm clock. There was no bomb in the nursery. He was more than a little embarassed. The children were still crying when he exited the building. The parents, however, were pissed.

12. There was no way in hell I was going to return that video tape...and there was nothing those fuckers could do to change my mind.

13. Have you ever had one of those days where you awaken and find your head lodged firmly in a bovine's ass? Thankfully, this wasn't one of those days.

14. I formally declared war on the entire continent of Asia on a Tuesday. By Wednesday, I still hadn't heard a reply. Things weren't going well.

15. Fuck them. I'll show them all. They will pay for their insolence.

Tuesday, November 1, 2005

15 Egregiously Bad Opening Sentences

1. It was at that moment that I realized those weren't, in fact, my buttocks.

2. As the midst shrouded the city, Chip realized his work was only beginning.

3. Simply surprised, Shirley simpered softly.

4. And that's when everything went to shit.

5. Oh man...this does not bode well.

6. The grizzled detective knew he probably shouldn't have fucked that hooker.

7. Shots firing off wildly, the blind seizure-prone paraplegic failed to hit his mark.

8. A strange sensation overtook me as I glanced down, and to my mounting horror, realized that I had awoken without my penis.

9. As I gazed at her lovingly and caressed her bosom, it suddenly dawned on me that this woman may not be a woman at all.

10. I was halfway down the street before I remembered that I had to return some videotapes....those fuckers were going to charge me a penalty fee if I didn't get them back in time.

11. Those rodeo clown bastards weren't going to catch me.

12. Leaving the party, I searched my pockets frantically before finally resigning myself to the fact that, yes, I had left my penis back on the second floor.

13. Ha!

14. Noticing a small dog tinkling softly upon my new Italian loafers, I allowed him to finish before kicking him sternly in the side and shouting "You're not my mother!"

15. Suddenly, overcome by the stench, I removed my head from the bovine's ass and washed up.

Sunday, October 30, 2005

A Short Piece Of Shitty Fiction

The fog slowly parted like the red sea and a man appeared betwixt the separated water droplets. The man had a rough countenance which was accentuated by his small and well groomed goatee. Stopping by a streetlight, he removed a cigarette from the depths of his cavernous coat as his other hand came up with a lighter that appeared almost as if by magic. He lit the cigarette.

Pondering the evenings events, the goateed man continued his ambling whilst puffing thoughtfully upon his tobacco stick. He was angry. Very perturbed.

Earlier, his wife had left him. While he was in the bathroom evacuating his bowels (at least that was the story he told her. In truth, he was vigorously masturbating.) she escaped quietly like a silent fart in the night.

The man stopped suddenly. He pulled his coat tighter around himself. He removed the cigarette from his mouth and threw it to the ground with great alacrity. Stomping it with his boot, he continued on his way.

With great alarm, the man suddenly recalled why he had been in the bathroom earlier. Back when he lied about needing to drop some logs. When, in fact, he was happily roughing up the suspect. The man remembered his reason for doing so: his wife was very untalented in bed. The thought alleviated some of his pain.

"Fuck her, anyway" he mumbled to himself.

Suddenly, the silence of the evening was shattered as a large black automobile tore into view. Speeding along, it popped up onto the curb. Attempting to return the automotive beast to the road, the driver pulled hard to the left.

The car spun wildly and careened towards the man with the goatee.

He had just enough time to mutter "Oh shit!"...and then he was dead. Before dying, the man was suddenly overcome with the realization that all his time spent at the learning annex studying marine biology was all for naught. Life sure can be funny.

The driver continued along and eventually stopped at a gas station for some coffee. At the station, he was robbed at gun point.

"Fucking lowlifes" he grumbled as the thief walked away. Hearing this, the thief turned back around and shot the man dead.

The thief continued on his way.

Coincidentally, five years later, the thief married the goateed man's wife. He, too, thought she was incredibly bad in bed.

Monday, October 24, 2005

Fast Food

Much akin to our earlier articles on beer and booze, we thought we would take a moment to meander through the wilderness that is the fast food industry.

McDonald's - First, a note to people who go through the McDonald's drive-thru: the menu only changes about once every five years. You know what they offer. Stop fiddle-fucking around and order some food. I'm behind you getting more and more pissed off because it is only going to take me 12 seconds to order my food and I have to wait for you to go through the whole "um....hmmmm....what sounds good? hmmmmm" routine. In any case, McDonald's is pretty bland. The new McNuggets may be healthier and all-white meat...but the old mystery meat McNuggets tasted better.

Arby's - Want roast beef? This is the good stuff. Want a deli sandwich? You are in the wrong place. Yeah, they offer them...but who cares? You don't order pizza from a sandwich joint, and you don't order a sandwich from a pizza joint. When I go to Arby's I want roast beef. When I want something deli I go to Subway.

Subway - Ostensibly a healthier alternative. Although, I'm not sure how a pizza sub or a meatball sub is a better option that Arby's. The real problem here is the fact that they call their employees "sandwich artists". I just want a turkey sub with mayo and green pepper. That's it. Everytime I order, I get interrogated about why I don't want lettuce and tomatoes. It's as if I stole the Cyan Yellow and Forest Green from this "Sandwich Artist" and now she can't make her art correctly. It's just an inflated title...you are a sandwich maker. Deal with it.

Fazoli's - Italian fast food? Bad idea. The less said about that the better.

Burger King - Dear Burger King: Oh, Whopper. Oh, how I love thee. But the King is fucking creeping me out in those commercials where he just shows up and stares at someone for ten minutes. If that guy shows up at my house, I'm going to kick his giant king-head in and then go get a whopper. Additionally, I heard that Humpty-Hump once got busy in one of your bathrooms. That's kinda wrong.

Wendys - No matter what bullshit reason you come up with, there is just no logical reason for a square beef patty on a round bun. It's just stupid.

Chick-Fil-A - Hands down the best chicken sandwich you will eat. Stop screwing around with the chicken offerings at Mickey D's and BK....get your ass over to Chick-Fil-A.

Taco Bell - Because you are just too damn regular. You gotta shake up those bowels. Try the Pinto's N' Cheese coupled with a 7 Layer Burrito. That oughta do the trick.

Carl's Jr. - I'm way too hung up on the grammatical atrocity that is their name to even try eating there. Do I really want to eat Carl's Junior? I don't think so. I don't even want to eat his Senior. I don't want to eat anything that may have every been a part of Carl. That disturbs me. No offense, Carl.

KFC - I remember back when their name was still Kentucky Fried Chicken. Good stuff. Not healthy...but tasty as hell.

Long John Silvers - Named after a fictional pirate, the treasures within are abundant. Wow. I should write advertising copy. Seriously, the fish is good and those hush puppies with change your religion. Don't know what they are called hush puppies. They don't seem to be of the canine persuasion...too round. Whatever the hell they are made of, I dig 'em.

Saturday, October 22, 2005

Ohio: An Explanation

I live in Ohio. If you don't live here, I'm sure your head is filled with clap-trap about farming and outhouses.

Nope. That's Alabama.

While Ohio does have farms, the vast majority of our state has actual houses. And indoor plumbing. Which is nice.

We have an abundance of roadkill. To this day, I've never seen a live possum. I'm starting to believe that the government breeds them, kills them, and lays them by the side of the road just for ambiance.

On the topic of roads, try to enjoy our highways. Seriously, try it. You can't. At any given moment, at least 140 miles of them are under construction.

How long will they be under construction? Hard to tell. You see the construction signs...occasionally you might spy some tools and vehicles...but nary a worker in sight. If you do happen to spot a construction worker, you won't see him doing anything other than eating lunch. They enjoy eating. We all do.

Frankly, you have better odds of being sodomized by a unicorn than you do of seeing a construction worker actively constructing. Actually, the odds are the same. They are both mythical.

Almost two years ago, the construction of an Arby's was announced a mere mile from my house. Two weeks ago, they actually started pouring a foundation.

Yep. Life is slow around here. Which makes it all the more odd that so many people seem addicted to NASCAR. I like fast vehicles as much as the next guy, but I don't really see the skill in driving in a wide oval for two hours or however long it takes before a winner is chosen. I can make left turns for an hour, easy. Maybe even two hours. After three hours, I'm sure I would be getting the itch to make a right turn just to shake things up...but the big concrete wall to my right would probably disabuse me of that temptation.

If you sit on any street corner for fifteen minutes, you are guaranteed to see at least eighteen cars with "3" stickers. For those of you with actual branches on your family tree, some explanation may be needed. "3" was the number for Dale Earnhardt. He drove in wide ovals. Apparently, he was pretty good at it. One day, he turned right. Bad things ensued. Now many a pickup truck is emblazoned with his sticker in memory of the man with a rather large mustache and a devious ability to turn left.

We also have plenty of violence. No square dancing and spring festivals for us. Nope. We have all manner of hard narcotics and gang violence. To be honest, it's something we begun about ten years ago to make it more exciting for the tourists. When everyone from other states leave, we go right back to shucking corn and throwing horseshoes.

Unfortunately, the influence of other "hipper" states is beginning to creep in. Last weekend, I spent over an hour trying to find a place to get a turkey sandwich. That is all I wanted. You would be amazed how difficult it has become to get a basic turkey sandwich.

The first place made all their sandwiches with Italian dressing. Not just in the sandwich, which ostensibly you could request them to omit, but actually baked into the bread. Additionally, they didn't have any kinds of bread that would be recognizable to regular people. No white. No wheat. Just names that don't signify the contents at all. Summer Harvest. Italian Vegetable Medley. Shit like that. WTF?

The second place smelled of a vanilla candle when entering. I began choking slightly. Their bread selection was even more obtuse. The names were an advanced cipher that I couldn't break. Also, no turkey. You could get turkey in conjunction with some other articles, but not alone. They, too, cooked strange things into the bread thereby giving you an ingredient you never asked for.

I finally ended up at a grocery buying a plain turkey sandwich in the deli. It was slightly dry, but still delightful.

It is an odd combination here in Ohio. While you have the snobby tomato-bread-with-Italian-dressing sandwich people, you also have NASCAR loving, gun toting, proud rednecks. With rebel flags. Seriously.

For a state that was never part of the Confederacy...one that is only considered "south" if you are standing in Toronto...we have a veritable shitload of rednecks. They, too, are uncomfortable with the strange breads.

Much like other states, we have spring, summer, autumn, and winter. We have the same holidays as everyone else.

But we have more per capita Wall-Marts, drugstores, and bars than any other state.

Plus, more Dale Earhardt stickers.

If you ever decide to visit, bring sandwiches. Ours suck.

Thursday, October 20, 2005

More Big Damn Poetry

For your cultural edification, we offer a few more tasteful pieces of poesy.


I don't like coffee
But I do enjoy Vodka
It makes me happy


There once was a girl from Dayton
Who left all her suitors a-waitin'
She bored all her mates
getting ready for dates
So they all just begun masturbatin'

My Friend Tom

I met a new friend one day.
We went to the gym to play.
He gazed at my rear,
and smiled at my gear.
And that's when I knew Tom was gay.

A Question

Popcicles are neat,
so are candy and gum.
I haven't any,
Do you swallow cum?

Wednesday, October 12, 2005

A Book Report

A book report from our little correspondent, Timmy Smith.

Friday, October 7, 2005

More Toby

Remeber my little neighbor Toby?

He gave me some new drawings. Like the last batch, these are mildly disturbing.

I mean, I am proud of his creativity and the artwork isn't bad for a nine year-old (his birthday was last week)....but still.....

We do have a fair amount of squirrels....

Wednesday, October 5, 2005


In an earlier article, we profiled various brands of beer. We thought we would extend that and take a moment to talk about booze. Hooch. Happy Juice. Various other alcoholic euphemisms.

Whiskey - If you are going to drink whiskey, drink real whiskey. Jameson is the stuff you are looking for.

Whisky - Fake whiskey. Note the lack of the letter e. This stuff is actually....

Scotch - Why bother? If you can't handle real Irish Whiskey, you should probably go back to drinking wine coolers.

Vodka - Kind of like if water made you a whole lot funnier. And woman more attractive. Recommended!

Flavored Vodka - Um....yeah. It's the new millenium. Go ahead and admit that you're gay. We won't judge you.

Tequila - Two shots of this and you will probably be picking a fight. With a really big guy. Who will beat the shit out of you. But it's OK. Tequila makes you pain-proof.

Wine - Unless you are at a wedding, a restaurant where each meal costs over $75, or sitting in front of a fireplace trying to get into the pants of the hottie next to you....there is really no excuse for drinking wine.

Jägermeister - Dear Lord. We don't have time to count the many ways this atrocity has sullied the good name of booze. Strictly for shots. Only if you are under 23....and in a fraternity.

Rum - Kinda shitty. If you have to drink it, you probably want to drink it with Coke. But use the real stuff, not that spiced Captain Morgan shit. That stuff tastes like you are drinking alcoholic french toast.

Anything that will get you laid quicker - We support it. We look out for our FBDF (Friends of Big Damn Funny).

That is a brief tutorial of booze. We were glad to be of service.

Sunday, October 2, 2005

Norway: A Review

Norway. Where is it?

Somewhere up north, scientists tell us. Anything more specific is anyone's guess.

Many tales have come forth from explorers who claim to have landed on its golden shores. For instance, some claim its shores are golden. Others tell tales of nude body art and strange experimental theater. Still others have come forth with bizarre stories of cannibalism and the celebration of Kwanzaa.

We here at BDF decided to look into this possibly mythical land.

Being too lazy to do any actual research, the following is some shit we completely made up.

All Nordic people are giants. Midgets there start at 6' 3".

The men each have three penises; the women have two vaginas. Orgies only require two people up there.

People in Norwegia (as the natives call it) are taught to lasso and ride wild reindeer, which is the primary means of transportation in Norwegia.

Nordic people are responsible for the bulk (98%) of the ever widening hole in the Ozone layer.

Norwegia has the highest population of gun wielding serial killers. But as all Nordic people are, in fact, bullet proof, the casualty rate is quite low.

Norwegia has a great many fjords. Fjords are tiny rodent-like creatures known for being quite delicious when batter-dipped and deep fried.

Nordic people are known for being witty practical jokers. The most common "joke" is to run up to one another during a solemn occasion (such as mass, weddings, births, etc.) and shoot each other in the head or groin area. As mentioned above, Nordic people are bulletproof so fatalities are quite rare, but the comedy flows like wine.

The first, and only, completely urine powered automobile was created in Norwegia. It gets about 1/4 mile per gallon of urine.

The top grossing film in Norwegia's history is Back To The Future III. The second highest grossing film was Sideways.

The largest Paul Giamatti fan club in the world was founded in Norwegia.

Being so incredibly huge, finding clothing that fits is difficult for the average Norwegian. Therefore, fashion dictates either wearing a very large tarp, or frolicking in the nude. Luckily for travelers to those golden shores, Norwegians are quite attractive.

We could probably look all this stuff up, but being American we prefer to stay stubbornly ignorant of other countries and cultures.


Norway - Rating: B-
Norwegia - Rating: A+

Harvey Selleck, Independent Producer

Big Damn Funny: So, Mr. Selleck...

Harvey Selleck: Call me Harvey.

BDF: OK. Harvey. What is it like being an independent producer? Do you find it difficult to compete with Hollywood?

Selleck: There are times when Hollywood makes life hard, sure. They don't seem to like competition from outsiders. Even though they spend so much time ripping each other off, they will pounce on you with a thousand lawyers in a heartbeat when you aren't one of the big guns.

BDF: For example?

Selleck: Well, look at Antz and A Bugs Life....same movie. But when I attempted a female empowering off-broadway play called The Vagine Soliloquys I got hammered by The Vagina Monologues people. I tried to explain the subtle difference between a soliloquy and a monologue.

BDF: Um....there isn't really a difference.

Selleck: Sure there is. A soliloquy is when a person talks to himself revealing his thoughts without actually addressing a listener.

BDF: And?

Selleck: A monologue has a listener. There are other characters around.

BDF: Not always.

Selleck: Well, sure. Not always....that's what the Monologue people said, too.

BDF: OK. Moving on.

Selleck: Right. I also tried to put together a film called Pink Black Panther about a homosexual militant African-American. That didn't fly. Couldn't get the funding. I pitched a television show idea to all the networks called Kidnapped!, but they wouldn't bite.

BDF: What was the show about?

Selleck: It is a reality show where we choose two families at random and kidnap their children. The audience watches in real time as the two families compete to finish the guidelines set forth by the kidnapper to rescue their children. Of course, only one family can win. That's where the networks got really hung up on it.

BDF: What happens with the losing family?

Selleck: We keep the kid. Sell him on the black market or something. Hell, we gotta fund this show somehow.

BDF: I'm guessing the networks didn't like that idea.

Selleck: Hell no. Bunch of pussies. After that I decided to stick with films. I wrote a spec script for a sequel to Big called Small. It is kind of a reverse of the first film. Now the kid is all grown up and it sucks, so he decides he wants to be small again. Only something goes horribly awry and he is still an adult, only he is three inches tall. You know, comedy ensues.

BDF: What happened with that?

Selleck: Hanks dug where I was going with it. The studio shot it down. Said nobody wanted to see a really tiny Oscar winner. Maybe they were right. I don't know.

BDF: Have you ever successfully produced...well...anything?

Selleck: Sure! I had a nice run with an off-off-broadway musical version of Fight Club. Until I got sued. Turns out the guy who sold me the rights didn't really have the rights. I shoulda known better. I met him in a barbershop. Not a lot of Hollywood players hanging around barbershops selling DVD players that have "fallen off a truck", you know?

BDF: I can imagine.

Selleck: Well, I gotta get back to work. I'm trying to raise some funds for an animated film about a family of cannibals. It's gonna be killer. Hell, I should use that as the tagline. That's really good.

BDF: Actually, no it isn't.

Selleck: What the hell do you know? What have you produced?

BDF: Yeah....anyway....it was great talking with you. Good luck with your projects.

Saturday, October 1, 2005

The Naugabeast

If you have ever dined in a Denny's or other similar family style restaurant, I'm sure you are familiar with Naugahyde.

Naugahyde is the leather-like substance most restaurant furniture is crafted from.

What you may not realize is the secret source of this substance....the Great Naugabeast.

The Great Naugabeast once roamed the plains of the United States. His hide wasn't as soft and supple as other large animals, so the Naugabeast wasn't very often hunted. Native American tribes often used his visage in their iconography, having great respect for the lumbering inedible beast.

Another notable feature of the Naugabeast are the very large horns growing from its shaggy cranium.

Both male and female Naugabeasts sport these large protrusions.

As hunting the Naugabeast was rare in the past, no purpose was found for their horns.

Beginning in the 1970's, the Naugabeast began to be hunted in large numbers to support the furniture companies supplying the burgeoning restaurant business. At that point, it was discovered that a lucrative black market for the horns of the Naugabeast existed in Asia. The horns are believed to strengthen the libido and lessen the effects of acne. Some claim to be able to see into the future if the horn is smoked, but the process for powdering the horn is quite arduous and the smoking of Nauga-horn never really took off.

Today, the numbers of the Great Naugabeast have dwindled exponentially. The high turnover rate in starting and maintaining restaurants has put quite a strain on the furniture business with Naugahyde being the chief fabric used in such chairs, benches, and booths.

The industry has turned to other sources, notably "Pleather" which comes from the South African Pleatheraptor, a smooth featherless lizard-like bird. It is believed that the Pleatheraptor may be a modern descendant of the Pteranodon.

So the next time you perch yourself upon a restaurant seat, please take a moment to think about the plight of the Great Naugabeast. If, like us, you feel that the voracious hunting of Naugabeasts and Pleatheraptors in unconscionable, please make a donation to PETA (People For The Ethical Treatment of Animals) or PETARN (People For The Ethical Treatment And Raising Of Naugabeasts).

The future of the noble and dimwitted Great Naugabeast is in your hands. Please help.

Friday, September 30, 2005


Some of you may be old enough to recall back when merchandising for film and television was still in its infancy. Often times a product was released that had nothing to do with the item it was pimping.

C3PO's came out around the same time the horrible Star Wars cartoons premiered.

Droids starred a badly animated C3PO and equally poorly drawn R2D2 and their myraid inane adventures.

The cereal fared about as well as the cartoon series.

Not well at all.

The less said about the other cartoon, Ewoks, the better off we will all be.

Do robots even eat cereal? Is a kid supposed to feel more like C3PO by eating oat cereal?

C3PO was a pussy, anyway. I don't know of any kid who ever pretended to be that guy.

One of the worst product tie-ins in history was timed to coincide with Stanley Kubrick's adaptation of the Anthony Burgess novel The Clockwork Orange.

Clockies was a cereal aimed squarely at children. It featured large fluffy marshmellows in some...well...interesting shapes.

Which is all the more confusing as the film has some very graphic scenes that would pretty much guarantee it will never becoming a family staple.

Beyond how wildly inappropriate the source material was, I don't recall a big cereal eating scene in the film rendering the ties from the film to the cereal tenuous at best.

Additionally, the cereal tasted like ass.

One of the more amusing failures was based on the cult hit Fight Club.

Fight Chow was marketed as a fighting suppliment.

Ironic seeing as how the main thrust of the film (and the book from which it was based) was solidly anti-commercial.

This product was unable to find an audience. Much like David Fincher was later unable to find one for Panic Room, which luckily had no cereal to accompany it.

We hope you have enjoyed this brief sojourn through some very poorly chosen cereal tie-ins. Always remember: while it may make a good film, it doesn't mean you would want to eat it.

Note to Legal Counsel for the breakfast cereal industry:

We admit that everything in the above article (except for the stuff about the horrible C3PO's) is complete and utter horseshit. We made it all up. Please don't sue us.

Sunday, September 25, 2005

15 Things You Don't Want To Hear From Your Girlfriend

1. Oh...how cute...what am I supposed to do with that little thing?

2. Holy Shit! Your tits are bigger than mine.

3. OK...after that...I am definitely a lesbian.

4. My ex was better.

5. Ouch! Do you even know what you are doing?

6. The last guy was better.

7. Let's go to the mall!

8. Can we just snuggle?

9. You're done already?!

10. I don't swallow.

11. You liked my mother, right?

12. Can I see the remote?

13. Let's watch ice skating!

14. I'm sorry I messed up the sheets. I can get that menstruation out.

15. Let's watch Somewhere in Time!

Friday, September 16, 2005

Three Pacinos

A brief rountable discussion with three Pacinos:

Lieutenant Colonel Frank Slade, John Milton, and Ricky Roma.

BDF: Welcome, various Pacinos. What shall I call you to better differentiate which Pacino I am speaking to?

Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Just call me Frank. Call me Mr. Slade. Call me... Colonel, if you must, just don't call me 'Sir'.

Ricky Roma: Rick-y Rom-a.

John Milton: Oh, I have so many names...Call me Dad.

BDF: Um...calling you "Dad"....that would make me a little uncomfortable.

Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Hoo-Hah!

BDF: Yes. Hoo-hah, indeed. Anyway...so, the ladies. You guys like the ladies, yes?

John Milton: A woman's shoulders are the front lines of her mystique, and her neck, if she's alive, has all the mystery of a border town. A no-man's land in that battle between the mind and the body.

Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Women! What can you say? Who made 'em? God must have been a fuckin' genius. The hair... They say the hair is everything, you know. Have you ever buried your nose in a mountain of curls... just wanted to go to sleep forever? Or lips... and when they touched, yours were like... that first swallow of wine... after you just crossed the desert. Tits. Hoo-ah! Big ones, little ones, nipples staring right out at ya, like secret searchlights. Mmm. Legs. I don't care if they're Greek columns... or secondhand Steinways. What's between 'em... passport to heaven. I need a drink. Yes, Mr Sims, there's only two syllables in this whole wide world worth hearing: pussy. Hah! Are you listenin' to me, son? I'm givin' ya pearls here.

BDF: So I would assume that means you do, in fact, love the ladies.

Lt. Col. Frank Slade: When in doubt... fuck.

BDF: Right. Well, I'm sure you multiple Pacinos have had your way with many ladies. Don't you ever feel any guilt about dipping your wick so often?

John Milton: Guilt is like a bag of fuckin' bricks. All ya gotta do is set it down....Free will, it is a bitch.

Ricky Roma: You ever take a dump made you feel like you'd just slept for twelve hours?

Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Uh-oh, we got a moron here.

BDF: Agreed, Lt. Col. I have no idea what Mr. Roma is talking about.

Ricky Roma: They say that it was so hot in the city today, grown men were walking up to cops on street corners begging them to shoot.

Lt. Col. Frank Slade: [shouting] I'm in the dark, here!

BDF: I, too, am more than a little confused by Mr. Roma's comments.

Ricky Roma: Oh, I'm gonna have your job, shithead.

Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Hoo-Hah!

BDF: I'm not sure how you could get me fired. I don't really have a boss, per se.

Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Hoo-Hah!

BDF: Hoo-hah, indeed.

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

People: A Review

They seem to be everywhere you go. No matter how far away, day or night, everywhere you look...people.

They won't allow you a moments peace. Tall ones. Short ones. Fat ones. Skinny ones. They're everywhere!

What is their purpose? And more importantly, what have they ever done for me?

Sure, many of you are probably saying something along the lines of "people created television", or "how about the internet?", or "toilet paper". All fine inventions.

"How about public transportation?" some might ask. But really, does anyone like public transportation?

"Computers", "beverage coasters", and "microwave ovens" are also some great inventions I will concede that people have contributed.

Some people might even say "the aardvark". But those people would be fucking idiots.

Now, just because a few people have contributed some nice things doesn't mean the entire herd is worth keeping around. What has the average person done except eat Big Macs, watch Seinfeld, try to get laid, and sleep a lot? Not much, I say. Haven't done much at all.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm no bigot. Some of my best friends are people. I've known quite a lot of good people in my time. But that still doesn't mean they're all good.

You may even be asking yourself about my qualifications for reviewing people. Well, Sociology is the study of human social behavior, especially the study of the origins, organization, institutions, and development of human society. Behind me on the wall is a degree in Sociology.

By "degree" I mean "turkey sandwich". By "on the wall" I mean on a plate in front of me.

None-the-less, I present the evidence:

In the 80's there were whole groups of people who actually watched Kate & Allie.

Everybody Loves Raymond is in syndication due to an actual demand to watch that crap.

Michael Bolton has recorded more than two albums...because people buy them.

Kathie Lee Gifford has a fan base...of people.

People watch Bill O'Reilly...and think he is intelligent.

If it weren't for people, we wouldn't have to deal with the Republican party. Or the Democrats, for that matter.

People are the sole reason we have overpopulation.

People are the reason Paulie Shore had a career, no matter how short lived.

People insist on growing old and boring us all without bullshit stories about what it used to be like. We all know the stories are crap…we just can't prove it because everyone else who was there is dead.

You know what I like better than people? The Ptarmigan. I'm not kidding.

Did you know that they have a molting cycle unique among birds. No shit. They assume a white plumage in winter, spring and fall they assume more colorful plumages. Their feet, which are normally quite sparsely feathered, become more heavily feathered in winter creating a "snowshoe" effect.

Ingenious little buggers.

Ptarmigan is the common name for three species constituting a genus of the grouse subfamily. The species are found in mountainous, alpine, and tundra areas of the northern hemisphere.

The three species are as follows: the white-tailed ptarmigan which abides in the high mountains of western North America; and the willow and rock ptarmigan, which are circumpolar and nonmigratory. They are among the very few nonmigratory birds of the Arctic, in fact.

There has never been any conclusive proof that Ptarmigans enjoy disco, as some people do. There is also no evidence to support the claim that Ptarmigans watch Who Want's To Be A Millionaire, as many people have and continue to do.

They are far superior to the average person, if you ask me.

People - Rating: F
Ptarmigan - Rating: A+


I have never really been one for telling jokes. Occasional humorous stories. Sporadic witty asides. But standard jokes have never been my forte.

I thought I would try one.

"So these two Irishmen walk into a bar. Migranes ensued."

Hmmm. It isn't really a punchline and then rimshot kind of joke. It should be wittier.

Maybe if it was in French....en français, as it were.

Luckily, I have access to the beautiful babelfish. Onward!

"Ainsi ces deux Irlandais marchent dans une barre. Migranes s'est ensuivi."

Getting there.

How about Dutch? Not really a culture known for ribald comedy, per se...but we will give it a go.

"Aldus lopen deze twee Ieren in een staaf. Migranes heeft zich gevolgd"

I can't really tell. I have no idea how to read Dutch. I actually don't really know anything about the Dutch culture. I probably shouldn't have even bothered to translate it into Dutch. Nevermind.

Moving on.....possibly Italian, one of the more romantic languages. At least, that is what I hear.

"Così questi due Irlandesi vanno in una sbarra. Migranes si è seguito."

That isn't too bad. I think we are getting closer to comedy gold here.

Well, the joke has been most of the way around the world. At this point, I figured I would translate is back into English to see if the comedy had percolated to a fine brew.

"Therefore these two Irishes go in a slab. Migranes has been followed."

Um....no. Not really.

Well, it still somehow seems funnier than the first version.

Monday, September 12, 2005

Cartoons Exposed!

Some of you may be familiar with the horribly racist stereotypes often used in WWII era cartoons. Even Bugs Bunny's hands aren't clean on this state of affairs.

What has remained hidden until this time is how many cartoons continued unflattering portrayals well into the 60's and 70's.

For instance, in one episode of the beloved Scooby-Doo, after capturing Old Man Pistone, Fred calls the man a very unflattering name.

Old Man Pistone: ...and I would have gotten away with it, too, if it wasn't for you pesky kids!
Fred: (chuckling to himself) Shut up, Wop.


Obviously, that episode only aired once. The outcry was so vast that producers scrambled to create a likable ethnic character to join the gang. Their attempt left something to be desired.

Midget Mick was a vertically challenged Irishman who joined the gang after they solved the case of the Bashful Banshee. Midget Mick helped the gang apprehend Old Man O'Malley and stop his nefarious plot to turn a sweet tourist destination in Loughrea into a haven for horrible industrial polluters.

After joining up with the gang, Midget Mick lasted exactly two episodes as his constant drinking and fighting was deemed not only wildly offensive, but really in poor taste for a children's cartoon.

Plus, midgets were pissed.

Same dialogue from Midget Mick's tenure with the Scooby Gang:

Shaggy: Like, I'm scared Scoob. Let's scram!
Scooby: Ro-kay!
Midget Mick: Where's me drink! Where's me drink!

Midget Mick was quickly replaced with Scrappy-Doo.

While Scrappy had most of the same characteristics of Midget Mick, he wasn't as overtly Irish and didn't appear to have a drinking problem. To this day, many people of Irish descent abhor Scrappy-Doo and recognize him as the slightly less offensive Irish stereotype he truly is.

After the whole Midget Mick debacle, the cartoon industry usually stuck to alien sidekicks like Great Gazoo or Bat-Mite.

But it wasn't too long before the industry tried its hand at something a little edgier. In 1975, a new character was introduced.

Did you know Hong Kong Phooey had a sidekick at one point named Kap'n Klansman? It's true!

Phooey (who was himself a pretty egregious walking stereotype) and the Kap'n would engage in randy banter about foreigners and their drain on the national economy.

It was all quite tasteless.

Same dialogue from a conversation between the odious Kap'n Klansman and Hong Kong Phooey:

Hong Kong Phooey: Hey Kap'n! Whatcha up to?
Kap'n Klansman: Oh well...you know...I'm just thinking about all the dirty mexicans invading our country.
Hong Kong Phooey: Um...yeah. Well...how about we go fight some crime?
Kap'n Klansman: Nah. I'm just gonna go burn some crosses or something. You go on ahead.

After seven overtly repugnant episodes, Kap'n Klansman was quietly removed from the show and all references to his tenure have since been removed.

We here at BDF will remain ever vigilant looking out for such offenses to popular culture and the overall fabric of the American psyche. We will keep you notified of anything else we may discover and we hope you have learned a little something about tolerance.

Note to Legal Counsel for Hanna-Barbera:
We admit that everything in the above article is complete and utter horseshit. We made it all up. Please don't sue us.

Wednesday, September 7, 2005

Toby's Drawings

As I have mentioned before, my neighbors have this really cute kid named Toby. He is eight years old (and loves telling you that every few seconds). Apparently, he has developed an interest in art.

Every now and again he will knock on my door and present me with a few pictures that he has drawn. They were pretty rough at first, but they are getting better.

Recently, he has become interested in comic strips and comic books. Now many of his pictures are in a series telling a story. Usually about his family, friends, or school.

These newest ones....

I can't help but be a little disturbed about those last couple. I mean, yeah, we do get alot of birds around here....but that is ridiculous.

That only happened like one time, and Toby was only three. There is no way he remembers that.

Sunday, September 4, 2005

Tommy's Cartoons

So my neighbors have this really cute kid named Toby. He is eight years old (and loves telling you that every few seconds). Apparently, he has developed an interest in art.

Every now and again he will knock on my door and present me with a few pictures that he has drawn. They were pretty rough at first, but they are getting better.

Recently, he has become interested in comic strips and comic books. Now many of his pictures are in a series telling a story. Usually about his family, friends, or school.

None of that matters right now.

The point of this article is that my little pal Toby has an older brother. I met him earlier today.

He seems to be a fine strapping lad of fifteen. Like his little brother, Tommy (that's his name, I'm not making any of this shit up as I go) has a passion for art.

Unlike Toby's odd comic strips, Tommy wants to be a newspaper cartoonist. He showed me some single panel cartoons he has been working on.

I looked them over and was a wee bit unsure where exactly he thought he could publish these. Of course, that's when the question was asked.

"Could you please post these on your website so people can check 'em out and let me know what they think?"

My first thought was: How the hell does this kid know about Big Damn Funny? Is there no parental supervision anymore?

My second thought was: Sure. Fuck it. I'll post them.

Here they are.

I admire his drive and creativity...but I'm not sure that last one should really be printed in a newspaper.

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