1. Gay Christian Fiction Literature
2. Idiots Guide To Snuff Films
3. Evangelical Porn
4. Dog Yarmulkes
5. Country Songs where the dog doesn't die and the guy's wife didn't leave him
6. Non-Alcoholic Vodka (a.k.a. water)
7. Puppet Bukkake
8. Getting laid without having to lie about yourself.
9. All-Braile Internet
11. Ferrets as a security measure
12. The State
13. The Ptarmigan
14. Hardcore Amateur Philosophical Porn
15. Big Damn Funny
Thursday, June 22, 2006
1. Gay Christian Fiction Literature
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
One Tuesday afternoon, a man suddenly realized that he couldn't remember who he was or how he came to be standing in a parking lot. As confusion began to envelop him, he spun around wildly looking for a familiar face.
He patted down his pants and found a bulge in the back right pocket. Opening the pocket, he gently removed the contents: a wallet. Flipping the wallet open, he noticed a clear window in the center of the wallet.
A driver’s license.
Jim Townsend. That was the name. Next to the name was a picture of a man. The man ran to the nearest car in the parking lot and looked at himself in the car window.
His face matched the face on the license.
Jim Townsend. That must be his name.
Suddenly recalling the film The Bourne Identity, he wondered if he was an assassin who was suffering from amnesia. The thought terrified him.
He ducked down and hid amongst the empty cars. Patting down the rest of himself, he found another small bulge in his coat pocket. Reaching in, he removed a handgun. Holding the weapon gently he tried to figure out how it had come to be in his coat.
His inability to answer this question only further escalated his paranoia.
Jim spent the next couple of hours playing commando and hiding from enemies he couldn't see, but somehow knew were "out there".
Occasionally, Jim would hear a sound that he couldn’t identify. Somehow this knowledge further fueled his fears that he was being watched. Or worse, tracked.
Three hours after his amnesia fear first took him, Jim found himself squatting down hiding behind a dumpster. In due course, he realized the "gun" was in fact "paraphernalia" and the reason for his "amnesia" was that "he was high".
Suddenly overcome with the munchies, he walked to the nearest Wendy's and got a Junior Bacon Cheese.
Fifteen minutes later, Jim felt much better.
Saturday, June 17, 2006
While it definitely seems like damn near everyone has a blog these days, what isn't well known is that blogs aren't really a recent thing. Archeological evidence has uncovered proof that many great names throughout history were avid bloggers, too.
I know. Some of you are thinking but how is that possible when the internet is relatively recent?. To you I say this: Shut up. You're fucking up my article.
The following are some excerpts from John Chapman's (a.k.a. Johnny Appleseed) blog.
2/7/1882 11:32 a.m.
Today I began my mission. I just started walking. Here and there I would spread some appleseeds around.
I really hope this leads to something good.
2/9/1882 7:38 p.m.
Today I got my ass kicked.
I was just minding my own business...doing my thing...planting my seeds and whatnot when out of the blue these two huge lumberjack looking assholes began accosting me.
They asked me what I was doing so I told them. Planting appleseeds to make apple trees.
The next thing I knew, one guy had punched me in the face. As I lay on the ground curled up in a ball, they starting kicking me in the ribs and shouting that I was an "applefucker".
Applefucker? What does that even mean?
Anyway, I passed out from the pain. When I awoke they were gone.
The bastards took my appleseeds, too. Tomorrow I will have to get some more.
2/11/1882 8:42 p.m.
Well, it looks like those two asshats from the other day were telling everyone what they did because now everywhere I roam people start calling out "Look, here comes the applefucker".
Anyway, I planted some more trees today.
2/15/1882 10:46 p.m.
I swear...if one more person calls me Johnny Applefucker I am going to open so many cans of Whoop-Ass.
2/21/1882 8:32 p.m.
Today was a pretty mellow day. I planted some apples. I ate some applepie. I drank some applecider.
Luckily, nobody recognized me so I didn't have to hear that fucking name again.
3/15/1882 11:32 a.m.
If I hear Johnny Applefucker one more time, I'm going to shove an apple up somebody's ass.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
For years, scientists and moms the world over have propagated the myth that everything tastes like chicken. We here at BDF have uncovered the conspiracy of the ages: chicken tastes like everything else.
It might not seem like a very big distinction...but it is. Think about it. We will give you a minute.
Got it yet?
OK. We'll wait.
If you don't understand it, allow us to illustrate the point.
Strawberry Fruit Roll-Ups taste like strawberry...but it wouldn't be accurate to eat a fresh strawberry and proclaim that it tastes like a Strawberry Fruit Roll-Up.
Now, admittedly, some of you may be saying "But Strawberry Fruit Roll-Ups don't taste like strawberry." To that we simply say, blame General Mills.
Another way to look at it is this: when two siblings look alike, is it correct to say that the older child looks like the younger? Or is it more accurate to say that the younger looks like the older as it was the older who came first?
Unless, of course, the younger was actually born first...which could theoretically happen if the older child was conceived in a worm hole changing the flow of time. While Hawking postulates the existence of worm holes and their ability to bend space-time, it has yet to be definitively proven and therefore we digress.
Then there is the pleather argument. Pleather is like leather, but yet it isn't.
Or the duck comparison. It has oft been stated that if it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, it must be a duck. Not so. It could just be a really confused emu.
Additionally, if a tree falls in the forest and only Helen Keller is around to neither hear it nor see it...did it really happen? But again, we digress.
We believe that through our many intelligent and illustrative examples that we have proven our point.
Chicken tastes like everything. Except, of course, pussy. That tastes like something else entirely.
Saturday, June 10, 2006
As an addendum to an earlier article, we illustrate more instances of history being a curious thing.
Louis Heaton was an eager young film director in 1924. Feeling that he needed something to separate his films from those of other filmmakers, he decided that the world was ready for sound film.
Unfortunately, Heaton had no clue how to create sound film. In fact, the first sound film wouldn't premiere until Warner Brothers released The Jazz Singer in 1927.
Heaton, however, was creative. He hired five actors to stand behind the screen and speak the dialogue while the onscreen actors moved their silent lips.
It took weeks of practice, but finally Heaton's actors got the hang of it and their performances were nearly flawless.
Having worked together for those long weeks, the actors got to know each other very well. Some better than others. Frank O'Leary had fallen in love with the sole female voice actress, Violet Salinger. Violet, however, had fallen for another actor named Warren Burton.
Angered and saddened, Frank showed up for the premiere of Louis Heaton's first film having imbibed more than a few drinks of an alcoholic nature. With no back up actors, Heaton simply trusted that Frank would be able to pull through.
Frank, however, was seriously shitfaced. And angry. Halfway through the film, O'Leary began crafting his own dialogue. This new dialogue had very little to do with the story on screen, but was instead more about what a "whore" Violet was and how Warren "liked it in the butt".
Filmgoers weren't amused. Neither was Heaton.
O'Leary was fired but by that point it was too late. Heaton's experiment had failed and his resources were tapped. He left the film industry and returned to his family's farm in Wyoming.
While many know that investors discovered the wealth to be made in creating low budget direct-to-video films in the 1990's. What isn't as well known is the story of the first stab at bypassing theaters and bringing film directly to the home.
In 1984, Patrick Gormican financed a low budget/high concept horror/romance film. Finding it difficult to get distribution for a film made outside the Hollywood system, Gormican hit upon a brainstorm: he would release it straight to home viewers.
Gormican chose the most popular video format and even lucked into a strategic alliance with Coca-Cola wherein there would be film reshoots exhibiting the beverage throughout the film in return for an advertising push from the cola giant.
On March 14, 1985 Attack Of The Mad Beasties was released on Betamax with the aforementioned partnership with Coca-Cola.
Some back story is relevant here. Betamax was created as a home video format in 1975. The format rose steadily in popularity, hitting its peak in 1983. Unfortunately, by 1985 the market was turning sharply towards the juggernaut that was the VHS format.
April 23, 1985 New Coke was unveiled. Created to mimic the sweeter taste of Pepsi, it didn't catch on with Pepsi drinkers and seriously pissed off long-term Coke drinkers. Within a few months, Coca-Cola grudgingly re-released the original formula now called Coca-Cola Classic.
While it is theoretically possible that Gormican could have made some worse choices, nothing is really springing to mind.
Five years later, Gormican had rebuilt his financial standing and decided to back a cartoon series based on the ongoing adventures of a new pop band that had recently won a Grammy for Best New Artist. The band picked were soon after found to have been frauds, not doing any actual singing on their album. The artists, Fab Morvan and Rob Pilatus, were stripped of their Grammy. Unfortunately, the six episodes of Milli Vanilli and the Chilli Willies were never aired. Ironically enough, the voices of Milli Vanilli were actually dubbed by Fab and Rob.
By 1998, Patrick Gormican had given up all hope of making waves in the entertainment industry. Having lost $35 million on his various enterprises, Gormican decided to step back and go in a different direction.
Putting what was left of his bank account behind one last project, Gormican had faith that he was finally making a good decision. Harrdik was an herbal supplement for erectile dysfunction. While testing wasn't completely conclusive either way, Gormican gambled on the fact that there was no other pill that was proven to work better.
Unfortunately, on March 27, 1998 a full two weeks before the debut of Gormican's product, the FDA approved Viagra.
Patrick Gormican was ruined. Financially, mentally, and with the erectile dysfunction he know had due to stress he was forced to take Viagra which was a crushing blow to his self-confidence and ego.
At the end of 1999, Gormican disappeared and has not been seen since.
In further installments of this series, we will examine how the creation of macaroni and cheese directly led to the Munich farting incident which forever impacted the European financial markets as well as the wild west adventures of Carlton Misk who was the first man to drink a cow's milk straight from the teat which, of course, led to his demise in Tombstone Arizona.
Thursday, June 1, 2006
We have previously delved into the Naugabeast and discussed its use for Naugahyde. Now, we turn our gaze to the South African Pleatheraptor.
As noted in the previous article, due to overhunting of Naugabeasts, the industry was forced to turn to alternate sources of textiles. "Pleather" comes from the South African Pleatheraptor, a smooth featherless lizard-like bird.
Some believe that the Pleatheraptor may be a modern descendant of the Pteranodon. Others believe those those people are idiots. Still others think the Pleateraptor may be a marsupial of some kind, but both previous groups can agree that these people are fucking morons.
With a wingspan of three and a half feet, the Pleatheraptor is a beautiful creature when in flight. Unfortunately, that it usually the time when natives hired by the textile industry shoot poison arrows into the breast of this beatiful beast and bring it crashing to Earth.
Pleatheraptors are vegetarian and have been found to have a fondness for Ritz Bits Sandwiches coupled with a nice fondue. Also, they are calmed by the music of Wayne Newton but will enter a fiery rage if forced to hear Robert Goulet. And who can blame them?
While basically docile creatures, the Pleatheraptor is soothed by the color white and enraged by anything off-white or ecru.
Native to South Africa, as their name indicates, some have been spotted as far north as Norwegia. Not normally migratory, the poor fuckers have been forced to escape their natural habitat to escape being hunted.
While those in South Africa are used to seeing the large leathery creature, other lands are far more prone to panic at the sudden appearance of a giant dinosaur looking thing landing on their front yards and hunting for cheese. This has, unfortunately, led to many Pleatheraptor deaths completely unrelated to the pleather industry.
If you find yourself confronted with a Pleatheraptor, you will find that they enjoy a nice bit of cheese (Gouda being their preference) but whatever you do...don't play, or even hum, any of the work of Robert Goulet. The six inch claws Pleatheraptors have can gut you in a matter of seconds.
Also, they make fine (albeit large) pets. Your yellow pages might have the number for a local Pleatheraptor shelter. Although, I'd imagine you would be aware of any in your locality as these beasts are huge.
If you don't have a particular love for Goulet, please think about adopting one of these noble creatures. Their future is in your hands.
Also, don't wear anything made of Pleather around them. It's just mean.