Updated sporadically! Guaranteed!

Thursday, December 24, 2009

Christmas....with zombies

It's Christmas Eve!

Get in the mood with this nice little Christmas ditty. With zombies.

Created by Eric Maziade.

Happy Holidays!

Monday, November 23, 2009

15 Unforgivable Sins

1. Loving Seinfeld

2. Watching, loving, and then owning on DVD any Michael Bay film (except The Rock. The Connery Exception makes that one OK)

3. Doing your buddy's sister

4. Doing your buddy's morbidly obese sister

5. Spilling the bong

6. While drunk, calling your buddy by your ex-girlfriend's name. Actually, even when sober that is fucked up.

7. Not replacing the toilet paper. Yeah. I'm talking to you. On behalf of the rest of us, fuck you.

8. Loudly singing along to the jukebox in a bar. This isn't a scene in a charming romantic comedy. The rest of us have to listen to you. Stop.

9. Eating the leftover pizza if you didn't chip in to purchase it. That's a dick move, man.

10. Farting whilst performing a 69

11. Not flushing

12. Spilling a beer if you have had less than three

13. Owning any film with Gwyneth Paltrow...other than Seven. That one is cool.

14. Owning any film with the Olsen Twins. No exceptions.

15. Not buying a Big Damn Shirt

Bonus Not returning the call of the horrible wildebeest you drunkenly went home with last week. Just kidding. Change your number. She'll never know.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

How I Would Deliver A Sales Seminar To A Bunch Of Gnomes If I Were A Minotaur

Good afternoon.

First off, let's go ahead and get it out of the way. Yes. I have a bull's head. But what I am about to teach you isn't bullshit. Ha!

OK. That joke was cheesy. Laugh it up. But I can reach the top shelf in the grocery store and I never have to suffer through lame Lord of the Rings jokes at my expense. So...point to me.

In any case, we are all here to learn to be better salespeople. Or, you know, salesgnomes in your case.

Kidding. Kidding.

First, you have to insure that your product is something your prospective client truly needs. If not, create that need. In short, lie.

In retrospect, I probably should have used a synonym for "short" instead of saying "short". Please don't take any offense. I wasn't casting any aspersions about your height challenges. Hell...I was short once. 'Course, I outgrew it.

Kidding. Kidding.

Incredibly shitty drawing of a Minotaur salesman

Anyhoo...your basic prospective customer wants to buy your product. He just doesn't know it. You gotta let him know what he wants. That's the key.

You gotta soften them up. Caress the ego. Treat them like cute little woodland creatures that need your protection. Act like little woodland Gnomes who...

Fuck. I did it again, didn't I?

Look. I'm no speciesist. I don't think Minotaurs are better than Gnomes. I have no animosity towards your people. None. There is no bigoted blood coursing through my mighty half-man half-bull veins, just as I hope there is no latent anti-Minotaur animosity meandering through your tiny-ass veins in your little bearded bodies.

So....we cool?

As a quick aside? Does the Travelocity gnome ever piss you off? I mean...it's like they are just asking people to kidnap your asses and take you on a voyage whether you want to or not. I'd like to see them try that shit with a mighty Minotaur! I mean hell...it took Theseus to take down one of my ancestors and he had two dads...one of which was fucking Poseidon! Now that is stacking the deck, you know?

But back to the subject at hand: sales. To be a truly magnificent salesman you have to get to know your customer. You have to be able to know what he wants and needs before even he does. Like that creepy King dude in the Burger King ads that always has a Whopper waiting for you before you even knew you were hungry. Something like that. But, you know, way less creepy.

You have to know that this is the life for you. You gotta commit. There is a lot of wining and dining folks. A lot of dealing with fragile egos. And there is a shitload of travel.

Hey, maybe you guys could get a deal from Travelocity?

You know what? I'm just gonna go.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009


Get Norzak on a Big Damn T-Shirt!

Don't expect more from us. We are lazy like this. Deal with it.

Monday, November 16, 2009

10 Haikus About Narcolepsy

We are all familiar with the literary form Haiku. Seventeen syllables divided into three lines: 5,7,5. The following are 5 haikus about food product mascots.

I like to eat toast
I caught it on fire today
Oops. I was asleep

Was it good for me?
I really can't remember
Who are you again?

I fought Chuck Norris
But it was then I awoke
Narcolepsy sucks

Earlier today
I tried to make a sandwich
And that's when I....(snore)

Road trips really suck
I'm always stuck with the map
No one lets me drive

The job interview
was going just great, but then
I fell asleep again

I tried to go down
on my lady-friend today
But I fell asleep

This one time in school
I was asking a hot girl
to prom....then....asleep

On a boring date
I say "it's not you, it's me"
Narcolepsy rocks

I wanted to be
an air traffic controller
You see why I can't

Thursday, November 12, 2009

My Experiment With Sobriety

A few years back, we ran en experiment with invisibility in the hopes of bringing you dear readers some education and possibly some laughs. While we may have failed at both...we at least succeeded in wasting your time. So it is kind of a win for us.

We have recently discovered the journal of an ex-writer for BDF (he wasn't fired or anything. He died when his car exploded whilst attempting to create a time machine) who engaged in various experiments. The following was his experiment with sobriety.

3:03 PM

The first morning I awoke sober, it took me twenty minutes to make it to the bathroom. It isn't easy walking when nothing is spinning and your head doesn't feel like an evil midget is attempting to jackhammer his way out of your skull. My equilibrium was all off.

It wasn't until about noon that I finally learned to cope with the whole "feeling good and not hungover" thing. Kind of overrated, I must say.

Around one in the afternoon I started getting a little scared because I hadn't peed in about an hour. I'm used to needing to take a leak about every twenty minutes. I started worrying that something was wrong with my bladder. Or worse...my penis. I asked around and it turns out this is "normal".

9:48 PM

One of the first and most important things I have discovered is that pretty much none of my friends are as amusing as I thought they were. Sobriety shines a harsh light on the people in your life. At the same time, I learned that a lot more people dislike me than I realized. I guess you notice more shit with this whole sobriety thing.

Also, as it turns out...I'm not nearly as attractive as I thought I was. Which is a drag.

2:10 PM

I remember pretty much everything about the past day and a half. Which isn't as cool as one might think. Sometimes I don't want to remember shit. In fact, there is a lot of shit I want to forget directly after doing. Sobriety makes that well-nigh impossible. Which sucks.

Ironically, I learned that people seem to have more tolerance for the actions of a drunkard than they do for a sober person. I quickly learned that if you aren't tanked, the general public has very little patience for someone attempting to use God's urinals (a.k.a. trees) in public. The thing is, I do that shit all the time when I'm drinking and I can only think of three or fourteen times when someone yelled at me. It happened every single time yesterday. Fucking puritans.

Turns out, I'm not allowed to do this.

12:32 AM

I tried watching about five movies in my personal DVD collection and they weren't quite as funny as I recall them being. In fact, they all sucked. The weird thing is I just know that shit was still funny a mere two days ago. Strange.

One that that it cool, being able to drive everywhere. Much nicer than getting rides from sober people or calling cabs. Don't drink and drive, kids. It's bad. Seriously.

I find myself eating a lot less and never seem to hunger for that Taco Bell "fourthmeal". In fact, at no point during my experiment has Taco Bell seemed like a good idea at all. Normally, I am there three maybe four times a week. Around 3 A.M.

8:03 AM

I had initially thought about extending my experiment for a full week to see if there was an adjustment period...but it just sucked too hard. I am going out for a drink.

2:39 PM

Here is my advice: The next person you meet who has quit drinking and they keep going on and on about how fucking glorious their newly sober life is...be wary. They are probably just trying to pull you into their shitty world.

You know how when someone eats something shitty and then they blurt out "Oh fuck! This is awful....You gotta try it!" and then they try to goad you into eating something that you now know is fucking awful? I think people inherently try to spread their pain.

So don't listen to those folks. Just keep on keeping on. And have a beer. Or three. Whatever.

For anyone who wants to get their panties in a twist...we aren't advocating alcoholism. The article is a joke. Relax. Have a drink...or be sober. We don't care either way. Just don't be a dick about it. And loosen up.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

The Big Damn Guide To Cohabitation

When you are first dating, you have infinite patience towards each other. Sure, some things annoy each of you about the other but you can overcome that minor shit, right?

I'll bet she even likes your pad, right? Wrong. From the very first nanosecond she was in your living quarters, she was scoping it out and making mental notes about what shit will change, what new shit she will be adding, and what shit you love the most that will soon be sitting in a dumpster.

Yeah...when you live together, she makes the calls.

Herein is your official BDF guide to romantic cohabitation.

Because we are friends, I am going to lay it all down with brutal honesty. Basically, everything you have heard up until this point is amazingly incorrect. You have been lied to. No shit.

The truth is more complex. And in some ways, way shittier.

For instance, if you are a male you will never ever ever get to pick out your own furniture again. While you might want an egg chair for the sweet maneuver of slowly revolving around in the chair petting a white cat and carefully explaining your devious plans ala Ernst Stavro Blofeld, your partner is far more likely to want a divan. And you won't get to put your feet up on it because it is too classy.

You know how awesome you think it would be to fuck in a waterbed? Yeah....you don't get one. You are going to have a queen sized bed that may or may not have a canopy. Good luck getting in the mood in that thing. It is almost as if the designers were specifically attempting to create an anti-fuck zone. If so, well played sirs. You have achieved your stated goals.

On the upside, sex in a waterbed actually isn't cool at all. It is twice the work. And fucking shouldn't be work. Of course, I'm sure you all know this because Big Damn Fans rake in the poozle like nobody's business. Right?

Remember how you always dreamed of getting together with all the other married guys and having a poker, beer, and possibly pornography night every week? Yeah...less so that and far more so the Oprah book club. Enjoy your Steinbeck, Doyle Brunson.

Also, no matter how morbidly obese your lady gets, she will still judge you on what you eat and call you fat when you begin to show faint signs of love handles. Is it fair? Fuck no. But she controls The Down South Mouth so you will have to just deal with it. Enjoy your gym membership. Or your Bowflex.

You will never look like this dude

You know how guys move into a place and wherever they initially put their shit, that is where that shit will live forever? Not so much women. They live for redesigning and rearranging.

Prepare to move furniture. Often. It probably wouldn't hurt to get that Bowflex, actually.

One thing you have heard that is absolutely true is this: what's hers is hers and what's yours is hers. Fact. It blows.

You used to own stuff. That was the shit she made you throw out or give to the Salvation Army the first week she moved in. Remember that stuff? That was some cool stuff, wasn't it?

Sure, your friends are fucking with you now. Making comments about how girlified your apartment is now...but one day someone will actually want to live with them. And then their worlds will be turned upside down.

Of course, you won't really be able to laugh about it because you will be too busy helping your girlfriend redesign the living room for the fourth time that year.

Good luck!

Monday, November 9, 2009

15 Incredibly Bad Excuses For Being Late

1. I put some miracle grow on my chia pet last night and this morning....well, have you ever seen The Day of the Triffids?

2. Sorry I'm late. I was busy banging your girlfriend. Not really. But that would be way worse than simply being late. Right? So...we're good?

3. I had a six pack of Smirnoff Ice, some Barenaked Ladies on the stereo...and I just plain lost track of time.

4. I didn't care enough to be here on time.

5. I had to wait for the Fed-Ex guy. My Richard Simmons: Sweatin' to the Oldies DVD arrived today. I can loan it to you if you want.

6. It took me a while to pick out the perfect pair of sweatpants.

7. There was a Facts of Life marathon on and I got totally sucked in. Oh...those girls. I worry about Natalie, though. She really needs to work on her self-esteem.

8. I would have been here but some important shit came up. I would tell you, but you are less important.

9. I'm agoraphobic. It took me a while to get out of the house.

10. You know, in Japan I'm right on time. You, however, are amazingly early.

11. I had to rearrange my garden gnomes. Timothy and Sir Bedevere aren't getting along this week so I had to separate them.

12. I'm trying to save on gas so I drove 20 mph the whole way here.

13. I've been taking these yoga classes and now that I'm more limber I wondered if I could...you know...well, after two hours of struggling, it turns out I can't. Yet.

14. I had to trim my scrote hair. That shit was getting way out of hand.

15. My car was in the shop over the weekend and they installed some kind of flux thingamajigger. I was racing to get here but when I hit 88 mph, some weird shit went down. Next thing I know, I am in 1955 my mom is trying to make out with me and I had to help my dad stop being a pussy. Long story short, sorry I'm late, man.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

How I Would Deliver A Commencement Address To A Class Of Werewolves If I Were A Vampire

As I stand here today, looking out at your bright shining and incredibly furry faces, it makes me think about how life can be a tricky labyrinth to maneuver. But this is your time. With youth comes vigor. I look out upon your visages and I see that vigor. Faces eager to attack the world. Itching to make your mark on history. And just generally itchy, I would imagine. What with all that fur.

Being a Vampire, I can't really identify with the burden of lycanthropy. From what I understand, your are cursed to transform into a wolf at each full moon. I, however, have the ability to turn into a wolf whenever I feel like it and then turn back. Or turn into something else. Like a bat. Or mist.

I gotta say, as far as creatures lurking under the full moon, you guys kinda got the fuzzy end of the lollipop compared to me. But then again, I will ignite in a raging inferno should I ever wander into sunlight. You guys can laze about getting a tan on a nice sandy beach. So you are up on me when it comes to that.

But that's kind of my point, we all have our crosses to bear. Speaking of crosses, I hope nobody brought any today. Those things kinda creep me out.

You have to find your passion and pursue it. And then make sure all your loved ones are securely secreted away on every full moon or there is a good chance that you are going to do some serious damage to them. Possibly even eat them.

But on the upside, every other day of the month you can just roll with regular people without anyone knowing that deep inside you lurks the mad desires of a fucking monster. Less so me. People like to think that vampires are all sexy and debonair. As you can tell by looking at me, I am less Bela Lugosi and more Nosferatu. It sucks, no pun intended.

So don't allow your curse to define you. Just make sure than when the horrible urge overtakes you...you are near somebody to whom you aren't particularly fond. Like a mime or something. Nobody misses them. Plus, they don't scream. And that will really cut down on the angry townspeople with torches and pitchforks, you know?

I guess I should probably share some wisdom with you before you journey out into the world to make your mark. I am approximately 320 years old so believe me, I have seen some shit. I've made a lot of mistakes, but luckily I literally have eternity to right my wrongs. Or at the very least, outlive whomever I may have fucked over. And that really comes in handy.

This one guy I used to hang out with, Pete, had the knack of always picking up the hottest women. He was a good looking guy, sure, but it was more about his presence, you know? Hanging out with me probably didn't hurt him either. I mean look at me. I look like a fucking drowned rat over here. Anyway, one night we were all out drinking and one thing led to another...and I kinda slept with Pete's girlfriend. Man...was Pete pissed! For the next year or so, I really had to lay low because he kept trying to stake my ass. Eventually, I just left the continent and was able to avoid Pete until he died.

So I guess I would advise you not to fuck your buddy's woman. Unless you are damn sure that you will outlive him. You werewolves aren't immortal, right? Well...then bummer for you. It does have it's upsides.

I'm probably just rambling at this point so I will try and wrap this up. Here's the thing, don't ever let anyone tell you what you can or can't be in this life. It is all up to you.

And whatever hinky rules your particular curse requires you to abide by. That definitely cramps the style a little.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Mal-Formed Johnny: The Saga Begins

Many people* have asked emailed us, stopped us on the streets, or just generally harassed us about Mal-Formed Johnny. Who is he? Why is he our mascot? What are his favorite foods?

We will attempt to answer these in order:

1. As noted in our FAQ, Mal-Formed Johnny (or MFJ) is a product of free art software. That's the only excuse we have. We are poor. Period.

2. He is our mascot because that is what J.D. drew 11 years ago and we have just been going with it ever since.

3. Pizza, the Burger King Whopper, and beer.

But people want more. More information, more stories, more things we are fully prepared to make up on the spot right now. So the following is the first installment of the Saga of Mal-Formed Johnny.

Mal-Formed Johnny first came to this country on a boat with many Pilgrims headed for Plymouth, Massachusetts. MFJ himself wasn't fleeing persecution nor did he share any beliefs with those Pilgrims. He just really liked boats.

After one especially brutal winter, the local Native Americans brought sustenance to the Pilgrims and a grand feast was enjoyed by all.

Yep. I'm talking about Thanksgiving. That was the last Thanksgiving that MFJ was allowed to attend. The journal of William Bradford notes the reason:

...the strange fellow with the lopsided head grabbed hold of the mashed potatoes and refused to share with anyone except Squanto. After gorging himself, he made haste to the cider and quickly was consumed with sinful thoughts. Long story short, that weird fucker stripped nude and began chanting "I can kick everyone's ass at this table" until he passed out. What a dick....

Mal-Formed Johnny was soon politely asked to leave the colony. Being MFJ, he just ignored them citing his personal creed "those guys are just fuckers". Two days later, he was forcefully removed from Plymouth.

Did Mal-Formed Johnny sign the Declaration of Independence? Almost!

Unfortunately for MFJ, as the last man assigned to put his name to parchment he was punished with the cruel fate of having the pen ran out of ink just as he was about to place his John Hancock on the document.

In fact, MFJ planned to write his name really huge and put smiley faces around it to insure that your attention would be drawn to his name. Had he done that, maybe history would call it putting your "Mal-Formed Johnny" to paper as opposed to your "John Hancock".

We will never know.

Many years later, MFJ was a major part of another important event in American history: the civil war.

MFJ signed up and served his country fighting the rebels for President Abraham Lincoln. He claims he single-handedly turned the tide of the war in the North's favor.

We're pretty sure he's bullshitting that part.

In the late 1960's MFJ was a big proponent of the peace movement. Less so for political reasons and moreso for the drugs and sexy women. Like most hippies.

His long and winding road took him all the way to Max Yasgur's farm in Bethel, New York during the summer of 1969.

Three days of food, folks, fun, festivities, foul smells, and various other words that begin with the letter F. Mal-Formed Johnny had no problems with the ladies that summer. He had a really good stash of weed.

In future installments, we may explore how MFJ was involved in the prison uprising at Attica (he was doing 5-10 for larceny), his work with Dian Fossey in the mountain forests of Rwanda and how he is still exceptionally pissed about his omission from the film Gorillas in the Mist, and how he single-handedly built the Statue of Liberty.

* Literally nobody has emailed, stopped us on the streets, or generally harassed us about MFJ. But as a preemptive move, we wrote this article.

Monday, November 2, 2009

15 Responses To The Failed Query "Do You Do Anal?"

1. I wasn't finished. I was going to say "Do you do analysis for any major corporate entities?" I don't want a conflict of interest here.

2. Would you change your mind if I offered to pay you?

3. That's cool. How about a BJ?

4. So...should we just stop now? I really had my heart set on anal.

5. Um...that came out wrong. I meant to say "Do you like fudge?" 'Cause I'm hungry and I've got a sweet tooth.

6. No? That's fine. But you do know that all the cool people do it, right? All of them. Big buttlovers, the cool people. True story.

7. O.K. I was just hoping that once we got married...

8. Yeah, me neither. I was just joking. Unless you change your mind. In that case I was all the way serious.

9. Well, why the fuck not?

10. O.K. But you better hope you never go to prison. That happens there. A lot.

11. Anal? No! I asked "Do you do fables?" I wanted to tell stories. It's fun.

12. No? O.K. But you can kiss that raise goodbye.

13. Are you a lesbian or something?

14. O.K. I guess we are done here. Good day.

15. I just wanted to be intimate with you...and I find vaginas scary.

Saturday, October 31, 2009

Saturday Laziness

It's Saturday again!

On Saturday...we don't feel like working. So here is something from our sister website...

Remember OZ?

We bring you an adventure for you to voyage upon....

Escape from Oz!

Good luck!

Enjoy your weekend.

Friday, October 30, 2009

Happy Halloween!

Halloween is upon us. If you have yet to choose a costume for whatever parties you will be attending this weekend, please allow us to provide you a very cheap option:

BDf presents, the official Mal-Formed Johnny Mask

Just download, print and cut out the mask. Use with literally any outfit. MFJ doesn't really have a certain style of dress so it is virtually impossible to dress incorrectly with this mask.

Should you feel the need to dress up with this mask, might we suggest a nice suit?

MFJ likes to go formal for holidays.

It helps get the pussy, you see. At least, that's what he claims.

Of course, he is a shitty cartoon, so we don't really believe him.

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Atlantis: The Truth

Many people wonder whether or not Atlantis ever existed. Some point out that had it never existed, why do we keep naming ships after the place? But still others point out the fact that naming ships doesn't prove a damn thing and that argument is largely fucking stupid.

But the fact is that Atlantis did exist. How do we know? Because we put some guys on it. And they found some stuff* which we are now writing about to educate the masses.

So now without any further ado, the truth about Atlantis.

Lost to ocean was the greatest superpower ever known: Atlantis. Some think that Atlantis wa sin the present day Mediterranean Sea, others in the Atlantic Ocean (hence the name). The truth is that both camps are wrong. Atlantis was actually located off the coast of India. "Atlantis" was the Atlantean term for "water" Being an island, water was pretty damn important to Atlanteans. All oceans were called "Atlantic" to them...because while they were technologically superior to all other cultures at the time, they were astoundingly uncreative.

Before the Great Typhoon of 5669 BCE, Atlantis was The Shit. All great thinkers, artists, pimps, and hobos flocked to the nation's shores. The great wealth of Atlantis was based one single ingenious discovery - booze.

Booze flowed in Atlantis like puss from a leper's crotch (although if we are going to use that metaphor we feel that we should point out that Atlantean booze was quite tasty and nothing at all like the rancid fluids from a leper's gaping sores). Atlantean's used this commodity to begin true civilization.

Brewers were treated as cultural leaders throughout Atlantis. Especially the elite weeders who cultivated a potent potable spirit from seaweed called Mad Weed 20/20.

As technology advanced, the desire to create and distribute a better brew became a driving motivation to Atlanteans. Soon enough, almost every genre of alcohol was being brewed in Atlantis. Beer brewers developed farming machinery in order to cultivate more land. These mighty machines are still used today and predominately produced by the proud Atlantean family of Deere.

Weeders developed mechanized transportation using water as fuel to better transport their product and to do so with greater haste.

Wineries contributed by developing various medicines and general medical technology to treat booze related injuries and illnesses...of which there were, and still are, many.

Unfortunately, so much effort and farm wisdom was being spent on the booze industry that the dairy industry never really developed. Consequently, osteoporosis and other bone density related problems were widespread due to the lack of calcium. That being said, those brittle motherfuckers did brew some good stout.

Dairy farming was given the same degree of importance as meteorology. Which is to say none at all.

When the Great Typhoon hit, Atlantis was screwed. Waves crashed down carrying the fragile Atlanteans out to see. Also, the breweries and corresponding technology was destroyed. Which is really the more important part.

Gone were the breweries, wineries, vineyards, etc. Gone. All gone because no one recognized that a few clouds on the horizon could mean trouble. Also, those big fucking waves were about to do some damage. So instead, ignorant Atlanteans continued working and brewing like crazed Smurfs. Albeit crazed Smurfs that weren't blue, were far more than three apples tall, and had serious bone density issues.

Slowly but surely, the rest of the world began developing their own methods of booze creation and various cultures and civilizations sprang forth from this need to get incredibly fucked up on Saturday nights.

None, however, could ever reach the heights of the great and lost Atlantean breweries. The glory that was Atlantis is sadly gone forever.

* By "found some stuff" we, as always, mean "we made this shit up".

Monday, October 26, 2009

15 Things We Love About Mr. T

1. The fools he pities

2. The jewelry

3. Removing the jewelry after Hurricane Katrina

4. This video...

5. The mohawk

6. The feather earring

7. His brilliant work in Be Somebody... or Be Somebody's Fool!

8. His stunning moves in the first WrestleMania

9. The vest

10. The cereal

11. The voice (like you wouldn't buy a book on tape of Mr. T reading...anything?)

12. Rocky III

13. T. and T....OK. We have never actually watched this show. But it was probably awesome.

14. B.A. Baracus

15. All those times Mr. T and his young charges from the gym would solve crimes and help people

Thursday, October 22, 2009

Belgium: A Review

For years, we here at BDF have been voyaging far and wide* to learn about new cultures and then share our discoveries with you. Over time we have visited* and reviewed Norwegia, Sweden, and Finland among others.

We recently had a request in the comment section of an article to review Belgium. Actually, the commenter literally just said "Visit Belgium" so maybe he was employee of the Belgian Tourist Bureau or something. In any case, we took up the challenge.

Historically, Belgium was home for two primary linguistic groups: French-speakers and a smattering of German-speakers. (thanks Wikipedia!) But this is no longer the case. After the communist uprising of 1955, small cabals of rebels created a network of pirate radio stations to further the cause of liberating Belgium from the People's Party of Belgium. As time stretched on, technology grew and those pirate radio stations became pirate television stations. Pirate television stations that showed reruns of Star Trek. Alot.

Consequently, the rebels began speaking Klingon as a rudimentary code amongst themselves. Once the People's Party of Belgium was overthrown in 1987, Klingon became the official language of Belgium.

Not a Belgian (at least, he probably isn't)

Now some might point out that Klingon's never actually spoke the Klingon language in the original television show and in fact, the fictional language of the Klingon's wasn't created until Star Trek: The Motion Picture. But those people are nerds and we generally ignore nerds. Most people do. That's why they are nerds.

Many people know that a major city in Belgium is Antwerp. Antwerp is huge in the diamond trade. Huge. The reason that Belgium has access to so many diamonds is that Belgians create diamonds themselves. Literally.

It is a little known fact that while all human beings are carbon based, Belgians have a much higher percentage of carbon in their body. When an adult male of Belgian extraction limits himself to a diet of baked beans and cheese, the consequent constipation and buildup of gases leads to the creation of diamonds in the Belgian male's lower intestine. One month later, he will literally shit out a diamond. Because of how easy they are to create, Belgians don't put much value in diamonds.

Another fascinating oddity about Belgium is the fact that the country is completely devoid of trees. As such, Belgians are positively enthralled with leaves. Such is the Belgians enchantment with leaves that their entire monetary system is based upon them.

Not Belgium

Also, pretty much every household in the country owns at least two copies of Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree. That may have nothing to do with the leaf thing and may just be because it is an awesome book.

While Belgians don't value diamonds, they are aware that others do. As such, Antwerp is not only a major distributor of diamonds, but also of leaves. A 2 carat diamond goes for about a pound of red leaves or two pounds of green leaves. Yellow leaves hold no worth for Belgians as they believe that those leaves are unripe.

If you feel that it is wrong for so many diamond brokers to take advantage of the poor Belgians and their passion for leaves, you might want to check out the official website of Belgium and search for a good contact address. And then send them some bags of leaves. Lots of them.**

There are many other amazing and true*** facts about Belgium we could share with you, but time and space doesn't allow further exploration at this time. But we will tell you this, should you ever choose to visit Belgium there is one thing that you need to know: much like their neighbors the French, the denizens of Belgium fucking love mimes. Those silent bastards are everywhere in that country. Everywhere.

* By "visited" we mean "completely made shit up from the comfort of our homes".

** There is a very good chance the Belgian government won't find this funny. But we will.

*** Virtually nothing in this article is true.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Karaoke: The 5 Types Of Singers

Sometimes you just get a burning desire to grab a beer or five. Possibly even some booze. When this happens, you often need to go to a bar.

And sometimes that bar is doing Karaoke. And it is gonna fuck up your whole night.

You have two choices here: find another bar or stay.

Finding another bar requires leaving, then driving somewhere else. This takes time. You are already in a bar. You can see the shiny bottles of awesome from where you are standing. You mouth, stomach, and brain all want some of that. It looks like you are probably staying.

If you are going to stay, and you most likely are, then here is a brief primer of the kinds of people you are damn near guaranteed to see that night. Unfortunately, this is one of the few times that booze won't make it better. Buckle up and ride that shit out.

The Rockstar

This guy forgets that nobody actually paid money to see him "perform". While in reality, he is in a bar demolishing someone else's music...in his head, he is headlining at Madison Square Garden and melting your face with rock!

This guy tries way too hard. He is probably in a band. And when the song ends, he will usually take the opportunity to shout out his bands next two dates. And they are probably at an open mike night in another shitty bar...that you should avoid at all costs.

The "Cute" Girls

Sometimes these girls are actually cute. More likely, they are really cute in their own heads...but reality begs to differ.

There is a good chance they are going to do Madonna. There is an even better chance that it is gonna suck.

And they think they are sexy as hell while they are doing it. And they couldn't be more wrong.

The Really Big Fan

This guy is a really big fan of one particular artist...and that guy's work is all he sings. Poorly.

Points for dressing like Elvis. Negative points for thinking he's Elvis.

This guy will probably sing two or three songs in the course of the evening. And he will be getting progressively drunker with each song. And they will get progressively shittier. But for you...it will get progressively painfully funnier each and every time.

The Taking-It-Down-A-Notch Guy

After various people destroying rock songs, drunk girls annihilating pop tunes, and that one dude attempting to do Johnny Cash's entire oeuvre in one night...this guy decides to take it down a notch and sing something to, and for, the ladies.

And it's probably gonna fucking suck. Hard.

But he doesn't give a damn what you think. This shit is for the ladies.

The Karaoke Operator

This person usually sings quite well. And he will let you know...by singing about ten songs a night. He will start the evening with a tune, and end the evening with a tune...and sing a song in between every other person.

The guy owns the equipment, so I guess he is entitled. But maybe he could play American Idol at home where the rest of us don't have to watch.

If you are stuck in a Karaoke bar, there is a good chance you are gonna see at least three of these types of people. Should you drink enough, there is a possibility that you will become one of these types of people.

But sometimes...just sometimes....you get to see something like this:

And then it is all worth it.

Monday, October 19, 2009

5 Haikus About Food Product Mascots

We are all familiar with the literary form Haiku. Seventeen syllables divided into three lines: 5,7,5. The following are 5 haikus about food product mascots.

Twinkie the Kid

Oh, Twinkie the Kid
Never saw you shoot a man
But I'll bet you could

Mrs. Butterworth

Your syrup is fab
I pour you on my pancakes
Damn...you're kinda hot

The Jolly Green Giant

One big green fucker
You are in charge of veggies
I won't fuck with you

Cap'n Crunch

Captain, my Captain
You keep the soggies at bay
Then....tear up my mouth

Kool Aid Man

You bring the Kool-Aid
You scream "Oh Yeah!" through the wall
You fucked up my house

Saturday, October 17, 2009

Saturday Laziness

It's Saturday again!

On Saturday...we don't feel like working.

So being the lazy bastards we are, we will simply point you to some past things we have already written.

We will call this one the animals and insects edition.

If you haven't read them, they are new to you.

Maybe you have already read them, maybe not. We don't really give a shit. Here they are again anyway.

The Titmouse

The Naugabeast

The Pleatheraptor

Amazingly True Facts: Animals

Amazingly True Facts: Insects

Enjoy your weekend.

Thursday, October 15, 2009

How To Declare Independence

There is one thing that every country has in common with every other country. They all are populated with people. OK. Two things. They are all populated with people and they all declared independence from somebody at some point.

If you feel that your country is letting you down in some fashion (or at bare minimum, you just really fucking hate your neighbors), you might want to think about shooting for independence.

Having done no actual research, I feel confident in telling you that declaring independence is actually quite simply. You just need to follow a few simple steps.


You are going to need to mark out the territory of your soon-to-be-liberated country. If you own a home, try slowly working outward from there.

If you rent, you may be screwed. It is hard enough successfully gaining independence from another country...having a landlord arrive and fuck it up is just embarrassing.

Try making a rough outline with either chalk or a shitload of twine.

Also, try to take this seriously. If you use some of that novelty "police line" tape then you are just going to attract unwanted attention before you are even ready to get the independence ball rolling.

Good boundary

Shitty boundary

If your boundary still stands a week later, go ahead and assume that everyone else respects your arbitrary boundary and work from there.

The Declaration

You can't have independence until you declare it. This seems to be a pretty crucial step. Everybody has done it: Albania in 1912, Belgium in 1830, Finland in 1917, and Norway in 1814 among others.

Possibly the most famous, at least to Americans, is the United States Declaration of Independence. Being so famous and well written (at least I think it is...I have never actually read it) it might not hurt to use it as a template for your own declaration.

For instance, try something like this:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created , that they are endowed by their with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are .

When you are done penning/plagiarizing you are going to want to sign it and make it look all official. If you have some trusty comrades who plan to live in your newly liberated land, you should probably have them sign, too. The more signatures, the more official the whole thing will look.

Also, don't write it in crayon. That never looks very professional.

A Flag

Every country needs a flag. As you will be the youngest country in the world upon independence, you are going to want something that really sets the tone.

Take a cue from pirates with their impressively bold flags and try to shy away from ponies, rainbows, and puppy dogs. While you may love these things (and Lord knows we do) it just doesn't work so well for a flag.

Good flag

Shitty flag

If you need to find a middle ground, feel free to add a jaunty hat to the skull on your flag. That says "Hey...don't fuck with me." but also "I enjoy haberdashery".


Whenever somebody declares independence, some buzz kill has to show up and tell them they aren't allowed to do it. We in the industry (not the independence industry, the comedy industry. I don't think there is an independence industry) call these guys "fuckers".

When these guys show up, you are going to need some kind of show of force. While it isn't likely you have been able to amass a large armed force for the protection of your nascent country (especially if you chose to go with the pony flag) you merely need to put forth the illusion of strength.

Try some scarecrows all in a line. Like the apes used in Planet of the Apes (original, not shitty Tim Burton remake).

If it worked for gorillas on horseback, who are already scary as hell, it should work for you and your wussy friends.

A Final Note

It should really go without saying that if you try to gain independence from your mother country...you are probably an idiot. And you are seriously going to jail. That being said, in the off chance you succeed, we are always up for a good party in a newly liberated territory. You provide the beer, we will provide the us.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Another Sweet Dose Of Short Shitty Fiction

As the door slammed shut and the lights went out, Bruce felt a cool shill envelop him. He tried to feel around but the area was too small to adequately move. Elbows crashing into dark foreign objects, Bruce fumbled for the door. It was sealed.

As panic began to set in, Bruce thought about screaming.

"No," he thought to himself, "useless. There is nobody who will help me."

Bruce realized that he needed to think clearly and calmly. This was not the time to go off half-cocked and start screaming like a banshee with it’s tits in a ringer. As best he could in the confined space, he felt around the door. No luck. It was tight. Tighter than your date’s legs on prom night.

Bruce slowly and carefully felt around for something he could use as a tool to pry the door open. There were very few objects in there with him. A cardboard carton of some kind, and a few squishy spherical objects. Bruce squeezed one too hard and a slimy juice exploded all over his hand and splashed his face.

"Fuck!" he cried out.

Leaning as far back as possible, Bruce tried to bring his legs forward in an attempt to kick the door down. No go. It was just too damn tight in there. Tighter than a nun’s junkbox.

Bruce was quickly growing quite cold. Had he been wearing more than simply his boxer shorts, he would still be cold, as it was, he was fucking freezing. And it felt like it was continuing to get colder.

Rubbing his hands together and breathing on them didn't seem to be making a noticeable difference. In fact, the friction was starting to be uncomfortable. Bruce stopped and attempting to look at his palms. It was still too dark to see anything.

He gingerly felt his palms with his fingertips. They were rough and slightly torn. As Bruce exhaled, he felt his cold breath reflect back at him.

"This is an exceptionally small place," he mumbled to himself. Attempting to get comfortable, Bruce accidentally rammed his elbow into something.


Bruce rubbed his elbow and cursed again under his breath. Soon enough, he felt himself growing lethargic.

"Maybe I should just rest," he thought to himself. "A little rest to regain my energy."

As the cold enveloped him, Bruce felt himself drifting to sleep.

As he slowly slipped into the arms of Morpheus, Bruce made an oath to himself.

"If I ever get out of here, this is the last time I try to jerk off in the refrigerator. This shit is embarrassing."

Bruce kept his word. He never did try again.

Then again, he never got out. Bruce died.

And that shit was embarrassing.

The End.

Monday, October 12, 2009

5 Haikus About Junk Food

We are all familiar with the literary form Haiku. Seventeen syllables divided into three lines: 5,7,5. The following are 5 haikus about junk food.

So tasty looking
Until you start to bore me
I hate you fireballs

I love Snickers bars
Packed with peanuts...and awesome
Hunger is your bitch

Yum, cotton candy
Blue or pink sugar goodness
My dentist hates you

Red Bull is rough
It will give me fucking wings
And then I crash...hard

Doritos are good
Cheesy corn and MSG
Fuck that Cool Ranch shit

Saturday, October 10, 2009

Saturday Laziness

It's Saturday again!

Enjoy more Python at your leisure with the entire Monty Python's Flying Circus DVD set.

All the cool kids are doing it. I'm just saying...

Enjoy your weekend.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

The Napkin Chronicles Revisited

Like we outlined in our previous Napkin Chronicles, sometimes the Big Damn Staff goes to a bar to focus on writing new material. And sometimes that staff spends more time drinking and making each other than they do actually writing anything down.

And then the next morning hangovers pretty much rule out any kind of productivity for at least another day.

One of us did, however, scribble some silly cartoons on some napkins.

As always, hungover or not, we still have to update. So...the following is another update of The Napkin Chronicles.

If that's not good enough for you, I don't know if we can be friends anymore.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

More Big Damn History: POTUS

As an addendum to an earlier article, we have taken the time to dig up some more amazing facts about past American Presidents.

James A. Garfield was born of Welsh ancestry. As it is common knowledge that the Welsh as well as the Finnish are shape shifters, so too, Garfield inherited this fascinating trait. While he would spend many a leisurely afternoon in the form of a cat roaming the halls of the White House, others in his cabinet were forced to do the real work of governing the nation.

James A. Garfield in his favored form of a cat

Unfortunately for Garfield, he wasn't able to shape shift in time to avoid the bullet fired by Charles J. Guiteau on July 2, 1881 which took his life.

While many people who read the above sentence know that President James Garfield was fatally shot on July 2, 1881 becoming only the second President assassinated in U.S. history. Many of those same people know that Chester A. Arthur then ascended to the Presidency and served for four years. What many of those people don't know is that there never was a Chester A. Arthur.

Arthur was a completely fictional creation. The Democrats and Republicans secretly formed a coalition government and hired an out of work New York actor named Charles Hallman to play the role of "Chester A. Arthur". The coalition government was so successful that their fictional front man, Arthur, is roundly considered "The Father of Civil Service" and no less than Mark Twain himself said of Arthur "No man ever entered the Presidency so profoundly and widely distrusted, and no one ever retired...more generally respected."

For some reason, the two parties have never attempted another coalition and the fictional Arthur's legacy stands as the only evidence that sometimes people in Washington aren't total douchebags.

Franklin Pierce is an often forgotten President not having the name caché of a Kennedy or Bush, nor was he lucky enough to be printed on a bill or carved into Mount Rushmore. But Pierce was important for one single reason: he was a cyborg sent from the future to capture the Presidency and keep America from being destroyed forever.

Had Cyborg-Pierce never been sent back through time, Winfield Scott would have won the Presidency handily. Unfortunately, three months later he would have died from food poisoning due to the ingestion of some bad salmon. At that point, Vice President William Graham would have ascended to the Presidential office and immediately instigated a devastating 28 year war with Canada that would have ended with Minnesota, Montana, and both Dakotas being annexed by Canada. By 1886, five years after the American/Canadian war ended, Canada would be well on its way to becoming the world superpower we now know America to be.

Cyborg-Pierce reaching for his laser pistol

Thankfully for freedom and the American way, some disgruntled super-patriots spent fifteen years creating a cyborg and by 2018, Franklin Pierce was ready to be sent back in time to stop the travesty that President Graham had wrought. True story.

Martin Van Buren served as both the 8th Vice President (under Andrew Jackson) and the 8th President. Serendipity, right? In truth, Van Buren didn't matter a whit in either capacity and most people today simply ignore his existence. Sure, in an earlier article we mentioned Van Buren's interesting work with hamsters and time travel utilizing a machine he crafted from tampons and aluminum foil, but none of that was done while in office and as such has been largely forgotten.

In fact, in 1976 a major publisher produced a bicentennial series of Presidential encyclopedias. Even though there had been 38 Presidents up to that point, there were only 37 volumes. Van Buren didn't make the cut. Even the fictional Chester A. Arthur made the series. Poor Van Buren.


In further installments of this series, we will examine how Millard Fillmore discovered rock n' roll and designed the Fillmore Auditorium to feature this fascinating new form of music, Zachary Taylor's early line of hip-hop clothing designed 220 years before hip-hop was created, as well as Calvin Coolidge's passionate love of roots music and clogging.

Monday, October 5, 2009

15 Signs You Aren't A Tree

1. You have no innate ability to engage in photosynthesis.

2. Trees don't masturbate. Don't lie...we all know you do.

3. The Lorax wasn't talking about you.

4. You wear T-Shirts

5. While you may occasionally get wood, you are not primarily comprised of the substance.

6. Trees get termites, people get scabies. Which have you had?

7. Trees drop their seeds all over the ground. Then again...I guess some people do too.

8. Trees don't watch porn. You do.

9. Trees don't have the internet...yet you are reading this list.

10. That one time when you stayed out really late partying hard with your pals and then the next day you were super hungover for class? Yeah...trees don't do that.

11. Unlike you, trees don't like blowjobs.

12. Dog's don't pee on you. At least I hope they don't. If so...that's kinda fucked up.

13. Birds do not roost in you.

14. Nobody has ever chopped you down and made a cabin from your corpse.

15. Regardless of what fantastical lies you may tell the ladies, that stuff that comes out of you isn't syrup.

Pictured: not you

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