Monday, 5 December 2011

Reginald

Hmm, this is to distract you while That Guy works on the real post. It's something I wrote in my English class. Got a 24 out of 25. Most others in the class are stupid. So, here it is:

Reginald is an expensive name. It cannot simply be bestowed upon anyone. To be even considered eligible for the label of 'Reginald' one has to be born into wealth measured in British Pounds; no other currency will do. After being given the title of 'Reginald' one has a certain duty to society. They need to be able to ride a horse with a certain level of elegance. Later in life, 'Reginald' will need to develop myopia or any similar optical disability which warrants the use of a monocle. 'Reginald' must, at all times, carry a golden pocket-watch upon their person and speak with a thick British accent. Reginald's attire ranges from a suit with a top hat to a suit without a top hat. When it comes to facial hair, some liberty is allowed, though mutton chops accompanied by a moustache are strongly recommended.

What other traits does a Reginald have? Do you know a Reginald who does not conform to the unwritten laws which govern him? If you were offended by this let me tell you you were not the first. This shark was offended too.

Tuesday, 1 November 2011

Contemplating the problems of a third world hellhole Part 2


Let's make this short; I have Game of Thrones to get back to. And then eventually, studying to do.

There are several reasons as to why traveling across road in Bangladesh will get you killed more often than having an elephant drop a piano on you, the most prominent being that elephants do not usually drop pianos on people. And then there are the more obvious reasons such as ill maintenance, corruption (the third world favourite), religion, bad weather, drugs, rampaging mon, Burmese streakers (Myanmar-ese? Mayonaise?), religion, capitalism, Pizza Hut, women driving, religion and our favourite, stupidity.

Highly improbable scenario


Highly fucking ridiculous scenario


Highly humorous but still fucking near impossible scenario

Bangladesh is a country full of shitty roads. Where a natural absence of roads would provide a better route, roads are built halfway and then abandoned due to a mysterious lack of funds while a not-so-slick politician moonwalks away with a significantly fatter wallet or purse.

With roads as shitty as ours and with population as dense (in both senses; stupid and high in number) as ours … you really don’t get anywhere. We can’t handle the traffic problems like the population by piling cars on top of each other because let’s face it, that would just look weird right? So with no chance of us driving, we don’t really get any drivers in Bangladesh. But however if you still drive a car in Bangladesh (against what nature intended) you have to be patient. If you aren’t, you will have to partake in a swearing match with a nearby rickshaw puller which you are almost guaranteed to lose. But the few drivers we have can be divided into two categories; raving loonies and incredibly skilled people who probably should earn more but don't thus sliding further into poverty.

Most ‘drivers’ here do not have driving licenses. About 80% of those people drive 20 ton cargo trucks carrying anything from cows to cadavers. Match that with broken down roads and mysteriously high blood alcohol levels and well, you get the picture. We do have people to fix these problems. We are told that we have a Road Minister to deal with shit. We also have a Communications Minister who builds bridges while stuffing his pockets with cash stolen from the budget while claiming Wikileaks lies about him and that he is a "proven honest man". Both of the officials mentioned are dumber than a holiday in the Horn of Africa.

A lot of these traffic problems can be attributed to over-centralisation of the capital, Dhaka (read: the shithole where That Guy lives). Dhaka is pretty much the only city in Bangladesh according to the rule that a city is a town which has more than 3 decent ice cream places. The rest of the country is grassland, rivers, flooded plains, villages, homeless people and other people who have nothing better to do than stand on the side of the road. Everything is concentrated in Dhaka. Factories, industry, commerce, education, sluts without AIDS, people that run you in with a knife and then forget to take your money, proper healthcare. All that shit is in the capital and you have to travel the already perilous roads to use them.

Hell, even the Navy headquarters are in Dhaka despite there not being a water body that can be sailed by Navy battleships anywhere near Dhaka. We also have the Army headquarters smack in the middle of the city. Why? Because they can bully the government into letting them take a fucking huge piece of land in the city, forcing traffic to move around it causing yet more traffic jams. Motherfuckers. Why would we need the Army in Dhaka anyway? If someone's attacking it'll be near the border, jackasses. That reminds me, the Border Guards also have a giant piece of land in the city. Right near my house. Because land is in abundance in our country.


Now Bad Ideas has to add something to the post other than a few extra words here and there. I’m the one who makes the pictures you ass! Anyways, since I’m not so knowledgeable about Bangladesh, I’ll write about where I live, God’s magical fictional country Pakiland. Okay, I’m getting this content from straight from the Paki’s mouth. Women cannot fornicate in this country, otherwise its 100 lashes for them, which is pretty much as the same as a death sentence (or half-death sentence), just more fucking painful. Neither can men (fornicate, that is) but hey, with all the chauvinistic bastards in parliament they’ll find a way to free them. Fornicate sounds like something you would do to goats … yeah, I’ll use a different word next time.


You can have up to 4 wives here. “It’s the law,” he says. So because of this influenced by their fairy-tale-like law people often abduct women with marriage proposal-advertisements. This is one of the only countries where every ‘Why aren’t you in the kitchen?’ joke comes true, at least once every day. Worse on the list would be Saudi, Iran and Afghanistan. We tackled Saudi previously and Afghanistan would be too easy right? But we will probably get to it, eventually, maybe.


Now, if you excuse me (That Guy), I have to go sit in crippling traffic for a few hours in search of ice cream.


Saturday, 1 October 2011

kindergarten + boobs + rat's ass = Poop post

Hmm, having no life but still not being, in the conventional sense, dead means I have nothing to do. Yeah, that’s exactly what it means. What is the purpose of a sentence defining itself? Well, apart from educating the appallingly stupid, its probably as useless as a sign which reads ‘Do not read’ or a Catholic priest in a kindergarten class (this was a completely random conjuration, honest, I’m sure he has his reasons for being there).



When I have nothing to do, which is almost always, I either sleep or watch anime. I’m not sure how one goes about saying it. Watch manga? Watch anime? Watch cartoons? Yeah, I do that. On a slightly unrelated note, does anyone know when the new Futurama season is coming out?

I, That Guy, am currently hooked on Game of Thrones. And I swear it has nothing to do with the boobs that appear every two minutes. It's got Sean Bean. Sean Bean has made a career out of fucking up in every role he plays. He's also a grade-A badass. The man was apparently stabbed in the arm in a bar fight and refused to go with the paramedics until he finished his beer. Badass. He's almost like Spongebob. Also, the bastards at work haven't paid me for August yet (why the fuck are you still working for them then?). Assholes. And they say I'm a douche. Fuck you.



Sooner or later, this blog will forego all humour, and concentrate on serious analysis of serious topics in a serious manner accompanied by (if any) serious pictures. The Librarian series will soon be at a close with a conclusion stating that the probability of a semi-potent celestial Librarian’s existence is not too high (GLITS forgive me), Places that Suck will probable turn to highlighting actual problems in the concerned countries and well, do we have any more series posts? If Crow Poop can be considered one then he will either get a real job or organize unfruitful protests against corrupted overlords and then get crushed. Why are we doing this and potentially ruining the little readership we have? Because, we need this on our already shitty college applications. And dissident blogger gets you good scholarship. Which we need as our grades will hardly merit a rat's ass.



We're bored and soon That Guy will have exams, again. Haha jackass, I laugh at him. This really isn't leading anywhere. It's kinda random. Kinda shitty. This is so unlike us.

Saturday, 17 September 2011

The One Month minus Four Days late post, maybe you would have more respect for me if I didn't put it up

The apparition climbed onto his back and whispered ‘GAME OVER’. He thought he heard a short 16-bit tune accompanying those words. The effect of the overdose was more severe than he was willing to settle for. All his senses were blocked by the mystery mix injected into his veins. He had been roughed up before, this time was a bit worse, he was left for dead in the local dumpster with the discretion an armed goon affords. The phantasm displayed a random range of colors before his unfocused eyes. The unwelcome hues slowly assembled into a long abandoned memory.

A sickly child teetered out of the sandbox following her friend. In the grey backdrop a newly constructed building stood crooked. In the distance, ants that looked like children made their way to the building. “Nick! Wait for me!” The boy called Nick turned to reply. “Hurry up; you’ll make us late for lunch!”

“You know I get tired easily.” Nick did not reply, instead he waited for her and then returned indoors with her at her pace. At the door Father Connelly greeted them. “Children, come along inside, he food will get cold.” His warm smile made their lives that little bit more bearable. And so they ate, in a room with a long table and many other children like them. The food was unappealing, spinach with spaghetti. “Ugh, I don’t want to eat this, hey, Angela, I’m gonna put this food under the table look that no one’s watching.”

“Nick! No! You always do something like this and get into trouble.”

“Don’t worry.” He assured Angela and, with what might be considered finesse to an 8-year old, emptied his plate to a neutral area on the floor. Once the children were done with lunch they were herded to the playroom indoors by towering nuns clad in black.

A rugged man scoured the dark, narrow alleyway, pushing a broken trolley loaded with recyclable garbage and cheap liquor. He stopped by each rusty silver bucket for search of treasure or less. Nearing a dead end, he paused to have another swig of unlabeled thirst-quenching poison. A half-hearted thump echoed from the large container beside him. A clearly drugged man emerged only to crash to the ground face first. After some time the failed corpse half-crawled, half-stumbled its way towards the street muttering something about ‘Angela’. Downing another mouthful the scavenger disdainfully muttered, “Bums.”

Not too far off, wisps of sewer steam collected to form a vague figure with a familiar aura. The apparition wrapped itself around a dying man’s neck and spoke, “Just watch. Don’t do anything.” And as though it had just said the funniest thing, the apparition laughed. “Ha-ha-ha.

When he came to, the cruel mocking laughter hadn’t stopped. “Ha-ha-ha.” It dawned on him that the source of his annoyance was the co-incidental rhythm of the steam making its way around in the rusty pipes. He was only alive now because the greedy underling had injected him with the impure product which they sold rather than the wholesome heroin they kept for themselves. Just how much of this was a hallucination? “Angela,” he sighed and the pipes once again reverberated, “Ha-ha-ha.”


[Okay, I have no excuse so if you're pissed swear at me on our lonely Fagbook page]

Thursday, 25 August 2011

Not-So-Essential Crowpoop: Sanity

[This story is vague to say the least. It's definitely not like anything I've written on the blog before. It's not funny. It just is. With that being said, perhaps my 4 readers, you shall be able to deal with such change and vote for my story on the poll to decide the contest. The poll shall accompany Bad Ideas' story. Also, like the damn Facebook page.]

Imagine a place. Make it a nice place; a small town preferably. Now, destroy it. Pillage it, plunder it. Annihilate, obliterate and devastate. Leave nothing unscathed. Demolish the ruins. Kill whoever the plague did not claim. Do not discriminate, racism and sexism is wrong. Women, children, elderly, set them on fire and watch them burn. Have you done it? Good. This is where I am. My name is Crow Poop. Does that make you laugh? It should. This is what the world has become. See it through my eyes.

Humanity has imploded. No, you cannot call it humanity anymore, not when humans act like dogs fighting on the streets, frothing at the mouths. And to think, just a year ago, I was happy. She was alive. And now, I have her blood on my hands. Haha. I can’t particularly complain though. Her cooking was terrible. Maybe the plague wasn’t so bad. No, no, shouldn’t laugh.

Contrary to what you may think after reading thus far, the plague isn’t what’s killing us. No. The plague has passed. It claimed a few billion, yes. But no, what’s killing us, is us. When the plague swept through, the leaders of the planet died. Countries dissolved. Nobody could operate on a scale larger than a city. In the end, it was just a bunch of survivors scrambling together to stay alive. And in one year, what has become of globalisation? Huh? Nobody much cares for economic recession anymore.

This town was taken over. They came. They had firearms that we were no match for. They came, and they conquered. They put the elderly to labour, they raped our women. Another reason I’m happy I killed her when I did. Put her out of her misery. She wouldn’t have liked what the world has become. Haha. I’m sorry. It was jus- just a funny way to die. You see, she came charging at me and I- you know what, forget it. It doesn’t matter. She’s dead. She’s rotting somewhere, her flesh now food for rats.

I like rats. Cute little creatures. And they squeak just before they die, if you squeeze them hard enough. And now, in this destroyed wasteland community, rats are fine dining. Skewer one and roast it on a fire. Delicious.

The battle for this town, if you can call it that, lasted all of one hour. Probably would’ve been over quicker if our “brave” defenders didn’t hide and cower like little children. They, the conquerors, didn’t have to do much. They just stood there, their guns at the ready. And almost as if reading their minds, our men with all their superior intellect charged at them, screaming something about freedom or liberty or some similar fictional concept they still thought they had. That is before they were shot to ribbons. Morons. Haha. No, I apologize. Death is not something to joke about. It’s merely the punch-line to the greatest joke of all.

You would think that with civilization nearly dissolved, religion would be irrelevant. You’d think people would stop bothering to go to listen to an old man preach random bullshit every Sunday, that they would stop bothering to bend over 5 times a day. You’d think they’d stop believing that an imaginary man in the sky will grant them favour. Idiots. People still pray to Jesus, Mohammed, Buddha and whoever else they think will come down from the heavens with 72 virgins for them. I feel sorry for them. But then I stop. It’s their own choice if they wish to leave their fates up to blind faith in an imaginary deity. Jackasses.

The sun used to represent hope. Now, it’s just a hot ball of gas, beating down on us. The rulers, the colonial masters, they’re comfortably off. They have working air conditioners, they have proper food and they have women to do whatever their sick imaginations concoct. Outside their palaces are the regular people. They live in stifling conditions, those who were once prosperous now enveloped in poverty. Haha. Serves them right. Made their money of bribes and murder, how does it feel now? Living on the streets; a cardboard box all the shelter from acid rain and ultraviolet rays of the sun. Haha. Did I mention they were idiots?

The streets are scattered with corpses and crying infants. Nobody cares for these children. Neither should they. Little snot-nosed mouth-breathers, never liked the beastly little creatures myself. I stand on the roofs of one of the last tall buildings that still stands. The asylum. It’s supposed to keep me locked up and forgotten, but it doesn’t take much to open the doors. Just a small pin would do the trick.

The living, now resembling the walking dead, will look up. They will hail my silhouette, standing between them and the sun, as their saviour. They will cry out for me to bring them salvation. And I will laugh. And I will defecate on them. And I will shatter whatever sliver of hope they still hold on to. And while they lie on the streets, shit oozing down their faces, tears will escape their eyes. And I will laugh. Haha.

The world is hopeless. Society has fallen. Everybody’s lost their minds. They’re quiet, but their minds run riot. Plain fucking loony. They try to pretend they’re alright, but I know better. I know the mental anguish. But I’m strong. I’ve overcome the trauma. I’m the only sane one left. But what is it to be sane in a world that is insane? Has the idea of sanity now been altered as the norm is now to be crazy? Or is it something, one of the only things, that has remained the same after the world ended? Whatever’s happened, I know one thing. I feel fine.

Tuesday, 16 August 2011

Bad Ideas versus That Guy

I am not sure whether the abbreviated from of 'versus' should be capitalized, semi-capitalized or not at all capitalized. This is another poop post I decided to waste my time on while my Futurama episode loads. We have come across a character we cannot really decide (did you know 'dickhead' is one of the suggestions presented by Google when you spell decide incorrectly?) what to do with, so we are each making our own story surrounding this character. This character is CrowPoop, Crow Poop or even Crow-Poop if you will, but most definitely not Crow_Poop.

Both our schools started, I now fear I may not have the luxury of doing nothing anymore. That Guy is in Malaysia now for some reason. The story is about Crow Poop and will hopefully involve black humor. We decided after little debating that black humor is not Dave Chappelle (black comedian) nor is it racist jokes directed at black people. Did you know there is a fetus Pokemon now? Anyways, this is what we decided black humor is. Black humour is basically making fun of stuff we're supposed to be serious about. Like death, rape, murder, child abuse, Jesus, school rules, running with scissors, etc.

Some girl is helping That Guy with his writing and some girl is supposed to be helping me with my writing. Anyway, we post one of our writing on 20th or 21st and the next piece of writing on 24th-ish, so whose writing do you want to see first?


There, the episodes are done buffering. Oh, and last thing, my story will be detective-y and That Guy’s story will be post-apocalyptic; most probably. But don’t hold me to anything I have said. Did I mention its like a competition?

Wednesday, 27 July 2011

Gay Twins. Deal With It.

[This post was supposed to be published three weeks ago. Therefore, a lot of it is backdated. Like the topic which no one cares about any more.]

You don't care about this, I assure you. Now deal with it.

Did you know the state of New York recently legalized gay marriage? We didn't. That is until a Fagbook (now isn't that a coincidentally amusing piece of wordplay that I just noticed) question/survey thing questioning one's view on the matter. Over 20,000 people thought it was an outrageous act against nature much like the theory of evolution. We usually wouldn't care about what happens where because it has no effect on us whatsoever, however this is probably a bad example as this shapes the society we live in either by granting freedom for same sex couples to confuse heartburn with love or by sanctioning ruthless witch hunts.

A better not entire fictional example would be :

Mr. McPerson of What Zealand cut off his own finger and ate it due to depression. This is a rare act of self-cannibalism which occurs once every 154 years when the planets are aligned. He has this to say for himself "Tastes better than my ex-wife's cooking."

Yeah that isn't what this post is about at all. It's about introducing our evil gay not-wholly-opposite twins. We got a hand written letter *cough* hipsters *cough* from them. Here it is :

Happy Gay Street #69, Flat 3D
MAN-hattan, New York City, USA

Dear Pitiful Deluded "Writers",

How are you? Don't hurt yourself trying to answer that. We have been living a nice gay life since the new laws have been passed and we can snog in public. We can enjoy penis-cookies without fear of lynching. Those aren't cookies for the penis you stupid heterosexuals, just shaped erotically to get your mouth watering. I would recommend them to you since neither of you dumb-shits can cook. But vagina cookies would probably be more to your taste, though they would be all leaf-shaped. How is that in any way appealing to you? Leaf fucking queers.

And OH-MY-GAWD my most favourite song ever just came on the radio. This song once got stuck in my head for 3 straight gay-hours. In case you are wondering what gay hours are, they're like regular hours but better in every possible way. So the song is Careless Whisper and it gets my man cave soooo HOT! WHAM! are inspirations. Not that you two would know good music if it bit you in your happy stick. I couldn't help but slow dance with Frank. This Guy couldn't hold it in and is already in the turquoise room of love with Andre.

Well, as much as I would love to torture you two some more with how our lives are so much better than your sad, pathetic ones but I will show restraint. Now to the real announcement. We're getting married. Me and This Guy have been dating Frank and Andre for more than a month now and it is the logical next step now that it's legal and those pompous conservative types (read : Republicans) can't do diddly-squat about it.

Oh the wedding will be FABULOUS!!! It'll have flowers flown in from South East Asia which is better than South Asia where you two losers are still stuck. My suit will be Magenta and This Guy's will be Nadeshiko Pink. Frank and Andre are wearing matching Mauve suits. Oh I'm gushing.

[ That Guy interrupting. Since they're gay, the wedding description went on for about another 3000 words. We're too lazy to type it all out here. Deal with it.]

Now then, you two are our evil-twins so regretfully we have to invite you. According to the Distant Relatives Article 58 of the Supercalifragilicious Gay Code, we have to invite all family members including but not limited to disapproving ones, third cousins, creepy uncles who live in the attic, evil twins and long lost little sisters. So, you're invited. Deal with it.

We've sent some pictures of us to rub in your face how happy we are that we aren't you and that we're gay. We're gay to be gay (L-O-L). Get it? Of course you didn't.

With much indifference,
Good Ideas

P.S This Guy says we aren't paying for a hotel here if you two bozos decide to show up. Again, deal with it.

***

Normally we would reply with appropriate swearing and fury but we're not in the mood. I'm lazy and That Guy has....well I'm not sure what he's got going on. Meh. Here are the pictures. Deal with it.
Us Slow dancing to Careless Whisper
This Guy getting a massage from Andre in the Turquoise room of love. Turquoise is the real colour of love, not pink like the card companies want you to believe.
Watching Julia Robert's Pretty Woman and O-M-G she is soooo misunderstood. Richard Gere, tell he how you feel!!!
We share cake. This must be agonising for you to see.
This is a spa belt. We wear it to fit the relaxation of cheap spas into our stressful working lives.

Bad Ideas (because That Guy can't bear to see the cake being shared.)

Wednesday, 20 July 2011

Bad Ideas' Good Idea Wasted.

Its 6:30 in the morning. I'm tired. I'll make this brief. Sorry, loyal 4 readers for not posting in about a month. I assure you that it wasn't my (That Guy) fault. It was all Bad Ideas' fault. Yes.

About four days after our last post, The Devil Spawn, we came up with an idea to make a post about our gay, evil twins who live in New York getting married (an idea that has made you chuckle just at the mention of it) and we were going to call them This Guy and Good Ideas. And well, I've decided it took too long and that I wouldn't upload it any more. The writing has been done for about two weeks but Bad Ideas has been dragging his feet on drawing the pictures for this and well it's taken too long.

So, in a desperate attempt to increase the appalling number of pageviews the blog has received over the last month, I'm write this abomination of a post. It's a 2 minute poop post. With our enthusiasm, I don't understand why there aren't more of these in the blog.

Since I have nothing to talk about, I might as well talk about what I've been up to over the last month or so. I've been up to nothing. Were you expecting more?

With a population that's bursting at the seams and the majority of the urban inhabitants deeming education a necessity, there are a massive number of educational institutions in Dhaka. Most of them rubbish. What am I saying? All of them are guttershit. And I wonder why this country is as dumb as Ash Ketchum from Pokemon.
Wait as much as I would love to yap on about the dismal state of third world schooling and how it affects me, I'm lazy and don't feel like talking about a 'serious' topic like that right now. I'll reserve it for Contemplating the Problems of a Third World Hellhole Part 2...if I ever get around to it.

And I feel weird not having more than one picture in this post so....here's a lolcat.
That Guy

Wednesday, 22 June 2011

The Devil Spawn

We have been holding polls regularly since That Guy figured out how to use the gadget, here are the results of the most recent one, 'What sucks the most?' which received 37 votes in total. The idea behind it was to create a new scheme for rating our posts but almost nothing went as planned so we have to rethink.
  • Paris Hilton (19 votes, highest) as predicted. This candidate needs no snide remark to accompany her, mainly because I can't think of any.
  • A Nun with Gingivitis (10 votes). No, no-one was supposed to vote on this, who would want to get sucked by a nun with gingivitis? That would arguably be as dangerous as getting blown by Paris Hilton. Plus nuns don't get to suck that much.
  • Your Boss (4 votes). He/she was supposed to get second highest but the outcome is understandable since most of our readers are probably bums.
  • I is illiterate but pretty scribbles are pretty (14 votes, second highest). This one was the non-serious answer for people who do not give two shits about this poll and wanted to answer cutely. But maybe they were serious, it fits with my hypothesis of our readers being bums.

Babies shit their pants easy and even then it takes us a long time to come up with shit to throw at our readers. Refusal to return to the scene of the poop means we do not come up with many series posts sequels. Yeah, you kind of knew that, we hate babies for several other REAL reasons.

Babies are loud and annoying. They cry and bawl on planes, trains and automobiles. Even in a fucking restaurant. A restaurant where all the waiters are snooty and have fancy entertaining moustaches and serve fancy foods like "fillet mignon au jus" or "cocaine ala meatballs" (stolen from Jon Stewart. Funniest Jew of all time.). Plane babies are the worst because you have no path of escape. You are confined to your cabin until the bathroom becomes free so you can escape to feel the sweet release of claustrophobia.


When a new infant enters the family, initially you're excited that you'll have a slave to teach your devious ways of parent manipulation. That is until you see the new baby steal your parents away with great use of cuteness. Your parents give it relentless attention. Since attention cannot be given to two things at once, you become deprived. This leads you to grow up to become awkward sociopath who indulges in drugs and dismisses "God" to spite his parents. Its all the baby's fault. Kill it while it can't fight back. Krusty the Clown recommends rat poison or your grandmother's feet to the ear while they're asleep.


Babies are completely useless. What are they good for? They can't do my homework, my chores, beat up people I don't like, get me a discount on weed. They can't partake in intelligent conversation. Hell, they can't even speak your lingo. They want YOU to learn their idiotic primitive language of drooling. How dare they? How dare they expect you to compromise?

China has limited the number of babies there people can have. If the Chinese do it, you know its a good idea. They are our future rulers after all. And besides, the babies voted against Mao Tse Tung.

Now as our 4 readers know, we make fun of other people's stupidity to make you believe we are more intelligent than the average person. That is true but not a great feat as the average person is a dumbass with an I.Q of around 15. But our readers are of course dumber than us for reading our shit, meaning we have not hit rock bottom.


So yeah, you probably know that we are gonna make fun of how babies are stupid to make ourselves feel better. But its true, research has shown 10 out of 10 babies do not give a shit about global warming and 9 out of those 10 babies grow up to be an unproductive member of a future society. 2 out of those 10 babies already have mortgages and drinking problems while still in the womb.


We are now giving away free advice, so please tell us your problems and if you have any questions The Great Librarian is willing to answer. So as a final word we offer you this advice. Always wear a condom. But you probably won't heed our advice. Nobody ever does. That's why the world is so fucked.

Friday, 10 June 2011

Places That Suck Part 2

We're back. Exams are over. Are you happy, kiddies? Also before you read this and by any chance get pissed off (very unlikely) remember this, all these are based on stereotypes, meaning its definitely true, so don't try and prove us wrong.

During the exams I, Bad Ideas, joined the cult of the Cambridge-poopooheads to please the Cambridge-poopoohead god (forgive me, GLITS) so that they grant me good grades. But now, That Guy is confused as to what to do with his new found freedom and so is forcing me to write the promised sequel to "Places That Suck" instead of procrastinating. SEE WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO HIM? WHY MUST THE LAZY TURN.....not-lazy like a hard working middle-aged man with no discernible talent and whose life will never lead anywhere !?!!?!

Well, anyway, back to shitty countries. How shitty is Japan? The answer would be "as shitty as that kid in Slumdog Millionaire". Japan was once a fabled magical land where ninjas ate eggs for breakfast, lunch, dinner and between-assassination snacks. Men with awesome ponytails and awesome facial hair roamed wearing awesome armour and wielding awesome katanas. But alas, that land is no more. Katanas have been traded in for Wii Controllers so that obese children might have minimal exercise.

Japan is located in the "Ring Of Fire" or something along those ominous lines. What the hell am I talking about? Japan is in a region of heavy tectonic activity and so in constant fear of deadly earthquakes. Like the one that fucked them over a few months ago. And that earthquake led to damaging the Fukushima nuclear plant and that led to spread of radiation. Nuclear meltdown was a real possibility and if it had happened not only would a chuck of Japan be uninhabitable for the next 1908127094 years, it would have awakened their mortal enemy, Godzilla, who would have emerged from his under-water fortress to bitch-slap them. I am probably exaggerating but this is after all, a post of meaningless banter, racist jokes (Japanese people do not see much for their tiny eyes, haha) and relentless stereotyping.


Japan is famous for anime. Anime characters normally have very large eyes, huge spiky hair which is coloured blonde/red/green/pink/shit and wear outlandish outfits so that the protagonist is easily identifiable. They also wield enormous swords/weapons that are twice the size of the characters and in real life, would be completely useless. The anime suggests that these swords are very light as the characters can move around so fast its like teleporting while carrying these things. This is because they are a representation of the Japanese people's hopes and dreams. They have an inferiority complex due to their tiny eyes not being able to see much, which is why they kill themselves in the name of honour (read : tiny eyes).

Anyway, back to manga and anime. Female anime characters usually have disproportionately large breasts. Japanese nerds are so perverted and sexually frustrated that they end up making animated porn out of these characters. After all, who doesn't want to see their favourite cartoon characters being done through the rear by a Pikachu? I don't think we need to delve into this subject any further.


Saudi Arabia sucks. Oh, you were expecting more? Maybe we shouldn't in case they go all jihad (stupid holy war) on us. If all the countries were children on a playground, Saudi would be the one running the risk of a heart attack, living in a ghetto, constantly complaining to its parents, sucking up to the cool kids but still not getting invited to the cool kid parties.

Saudi is home to the house of "god" (Allah, a false deity for the Librarian is the only one) in Mecca which is a congested, polluted, slum-like city. Quite possibly as a result of this, Saudi Arabia is the muslim-est country in the world (it also holds the majority of the world's oil and so the white men of the West cannot attack). Meaning there are almost no human rights for people that have smaller beards than Dumbledore under the "Intolerant Muslim or GTFO act of 600 AD" otherwise known as the Quran.


Under the "GTFO Act", you are not allowed to blog left-wing or indeed anything that suggests anything that doesn't stink of conservativeness. You are not allowed to support homosexuals, bisexuals, Borat, transsexuals or bacon. Political parties are not allowed with the exception of the "Glorious Muslim Brotherhood Of Bearded Dudes Who Wear Small Hats But Are Not Jewish" or GMBOBDWWSHBANJ and because of its name which isn't douche-y I support it. Also they cool with Borat cos' he is "veddy naice". (That Guy says "Tell me that was sarcasm"). And needless to say women have little to no value there. They are not allowed to drive cars or give head, much less give head while driving a car, but they are allowed to fly planes.

With Saudi sucking so much its hardly a surprise people turn into raving loonies and try to commit crimes. But Saudi law enforcement (read : more bearded dudes with meat cleavers) puts a stop to that with their unique brand of punishment.
  • Hands and feet are amputated for robbery or theft
  • Sexual deviancy is rewarded by whipping in public
  • Public beheadings for drug traffickers, murderers, rapists, armed robbers and Jewish people.
Well that was the grand return post. Disappointed yet? In order to be closer to our minions we have created a Facebook "like" page. It's right under every post. Now click it, get your fake Fagbook account and "like" it again. Then tell all your friends, family, sex slaves and pets to do the same. So yeah, that's about it. Go "like" it.

P.S. If you're confused, That Guy wrote Japan, Bad Ideas wrote Saudi and then they edited each others.

Monday, 23 May 2011

The Questions You're Too Dumb To Think Of

What do you suppose people will do with 72 virgins? Who has that much stamina? Also, if you do 1 of the 72 does that one disappear and is replaced by another virgin or after doing all 72 do you have 72 girls who have had sex once? If a virgin does get replaced then where does the virgin go? Is she vaporized? Do we even know if the virgins are female?

Narcissism is when you are infatuated with yourself. A higher level of narcissism would mean you are sexually attracted to yourself or similar. Now what if you are a minor and belong to the second group i.e. the ones that are attracted to themselves, and you pleasure yourself thinking of yourself, are you a pedophile? If you have naked pictures of yourself which serves as porn are you a pedophile?


Don't you hate it when ugly girls think they're the most gorgeous creation in the world? Don't you also hate it when said ugly girls upload thousands of pictures of aforementioned ugliness on Facebook thus spamming your home page and partially blinding you? Do you not despise the fact that their delusion costs you your eyesight?


Is this another series post? Should we make another series post considering our inconsistency? Should we be breaking our promise to study? Should we risk not getting good grades? Should we be asking you philosophical questions with so much depth considering we assume 75% of our 4 readers to be brain-dead? Should we have said that out loud? Do we really give the tiniest of shits? Why do we ask so many questions? Is this supposed to be some underdeveloped yet charitably plausible form of wit? Why are you still reading? Why aren't you commenting and voting on the poll through multiple browsers and profiles so as to make this blog look successful?

Wednesday, 18 May 2011

A New Era and A Crappy Review

First things first, poll results. The question was which series post you would like to see return. People and spambots alike voted.

He's got the right idea.

Now the more important announcements. Due to our awesome procrastination powers, Bad Ideas and I have made a new banner for the blog. Its quite sad to see the old one go. It was one of the good points of an otherwise crappy page. But this signals a new era. An era of shittier writing. Huzzah!

If you don't remember what the old one looks like, here's a picture.


And well, I got my first article published at work. It was an effort that took all of 10 minutes. 4 of those minutes consisted of me talking to people I don't like. The things I do to get paid next to nothing (he gets paid in office supplies which he steals). I (Bad Ideas for this sentence only) would like to give you the link to his first article but it would only lead to ridicule and loss of minions which we cannot afford at a point this close to world domination.

This is a lame-ass album review that will hopefully get printed next week. I'm sure none of our 4 readers are accustomed to seeing me write without swearing like a drunken Irishman so this will come as a shock.

Rise Against's Endgame

If there’s one thing that Rise Against is good at, it’s being perpetually vehemently pissed off. You’d think with a growing fanbase and selling tens of thousands of albums they would have some happiness in their lives, but no. They always find something to complain about. That’s also why this writer can relate to them.

In their new album, the ominously named “Endgame”, vocalist Tim McIlrath describes himself as an “orphan of the American dream”. Melodramatic much?

There are two types of Punk music out there nowadays. The first which rebels against the system and the second which is basically regular pop songs sung at twice the speed. Rise Against’s new album is a bit of both. From the minute the loud guitar riffs of “Architects” welcome you to the album; it sort of sparks a rebellious flame inside.

Rise Against’s sound has evolved in this album. To old fans this will sound a bit alien. It’s a much lighter sound than the grittiness that their previous albums such as “The Sufferer and The Witness” accustomed us to. There are some clear grunge influences (such as in the song “Midnight Hands”). It takes a little getting used to.

Rise Against’s niche is singing songs that have messages. They do their best to highlight the problems that plague the world. From questioning why a soldier had to die in “Survivor’s Guilt” to inspiring an uprising on “A Gentlemen’s Coup” to showing us the lower class angst on “Disparity by Design”, the combination of McIlrath’s intensity and the blaring guitar riff driven music send a thoughtful shot of adrenaline into your system.

The stand out point for me though, is the brilliant “Make It Stop (September’s Children)”; a song taking aim at bullying and a plea to stop before more children end their lives through frustration and violence. “And too much blood has flowed from the wrists; of the children shamed for those they chose to kiss”

There are flaws in the album. For example : when the customary half-way slow-down in the song “Architects” arrives, it sounds like McIlrath is trying to win back his girlfriend rather then send a true message. Since punk is sung at twice the speed of other songs, some of the songs such as “Wait for Me” overstay their welcome.

“Endgame” is a rarity. It is an intelligent album. Something the music industry needs more of. It has a solid message for all willing to listen. It’s a very good album. The only thing missing though, is that little magic spark. That little magic spark which turns a good album into a great album, an album that will stand the test of time. But it’s still a very good album.

Final rating: 8/10

We apologize for the incredibly lame post. Exams still aren't over. Once we're back we'll get back to making what people voted for happen. New writers and Places That Suck are a few things to look forward to next month.

Till then,

That Guy and minimum unwanted interference from Bad Ideas

Oh, and don't forget to vote on the next poll or inbred American redneck will flame your ass.

Saturday, 30 April 2011

The Real Hiatus Announcement

Its been a hell of a few months for the blog. We made 1300 views this month, got hate comments from angry Indian ninjas, got to 92 followers. But now is the time to take a break. I'm sorry but we must leave. And not because of your stupid Indian bitch ass, Anonymous. Apologies to any other Indian followers because I get not all of you are like Anonymous.

This decision has been a long time coming. We have to get back to real life duties. Sadly, we can't cite a lesbian cloud (literally a cloud made of girls who do things to each other) as the reason of our departure. For the reason is more mundane and...just plain lame. We have exams. GCE exams. GCE stands for Stupid shit exams that will ruin our lives if we fail.
I got a job. I'm going to be writing in the biggest youth magazine in Dhaka. And going to be paid peanuts. Ahh the things I do because my co-writer doesn't want to do them alone.

Well, I suppose thats about it. Guys, please don't un-follow the blog. I will be back in a month. And I really don't want to come back and see 92 turn into 9 because those 9 are probably dead and so cannot unfollow my blog.

Till then,
That Guy and Bad Ideas.

P.S If anyone needs me I'll check my email. Its right below the main blog picture in the introduction.

P.P.S Anonymous, this is for you

Saturday, 16 April 2011

Interviewing A Deity

Before we get started on the post there are two things. One is our first poll results. Thanks to everyone who voted. We got:
  • 11 votes for "Add them both". But sadly, we don't care about your opinion in the slightest.
  • 5 votes for "I don't care". Then don't freakin' vote, jackass.
  • 4 votes for "Don't add more writers". Why are you so afraid of change? You voted against Obama didn't you?
  • 2 votes for "Add just 1". I'll add as many as I like.
  • 1 vote for "They should replace you two" . I appreciate the honesty.
Second thing, in this post we will be interviewing The Librarian (the better choice when compared to other failed gods). The god of Librarianism which is the religion we follow. To learn more of Librarianism please follow the links to Encyclopedia Librarica Book 1 and Book 2.

We also introduce a new character in this post. He is named the Rowdykid. He's like what Christians call the devil but he's emo. A picture is shown below.


He resides in the Not-so-Great Emo Concert at the centre of the earth. Now onto the interview.

That Guy and Bad Ideas : How do we know you're really god?
Librarian : Well, I did the "Virgin" Mary. She was a freak! I have pictures. Then I left her with a kid. This is why Jesus was such a troubled man., going around and spreading lies about some other god instead of preaching my awesomeness. That is why he now resides in The Not-so-Great Emo Concert at the Centre of the Earth.

TG & BI : Why Library?
Librarian : *awkward silence* I'm not quite sure, ask the Great Apothecary, he might know. PSYCH! You must be a serious jackass to believe there's a huge pharmacist in the sky. But then again you believed in Zeus. Man, I really dropped the ball while creating your species.

TG & BI : Is there a life after death?
Librarian: Well its called death because its not life ; its death. If you are good in life, you go to The Great Library In The Sky. Otherwise I SEND you to the Not-so-Great Emo Concert. Method of trasport? Fat American. How does it work? You ride him.

TG & BI : What is your gender?
Librarian: If the Bible and other blasphemous works, got one thing right, its that I'm a dude. (Sorry for any confusion little heathen/pagan friends). And as for proof, ask your mama.

TG & BI : What food do you eat?
Librarian : Intelligence of generations. Makes sense, doesn't it?

TG & BI : How many times a day do you shit?
Librarian : Look at it this way ; each time I shit, somebody dies in the world. I have perpetual diarrhoea. *Looks around awkwardly* Next question.

TG & BI : What are your opinions on fake religions such as Christianity or Islam?
Librarian : Damn fuckin' hilarious! Can you believe they fell for that stuff about not shaving making you holy? I don't sleep with their women, I leave that to the Rowdykid. Jews are okay though. They invented Jew-Jitsu.
TG & BI : No they didn't.
Librarian : What? Jew-Jitsu is Chinese? Rowdykid-dammit! I curse them with an eternity of being victims of 50% of the world's racist jokes.

TG & BI : What advice do you have to give to today's youth on drugs?
Librarian : Drugs are whack, yo. In fact, I'm completely baked. So are you. Keep that parcel I gave you for later use. Its the good stuff.

TG & BI : Is Santa Claus real? And if he is, what about the Easter Bunny?
Librarian : Santa Claus is a homeless burglar who has bestiality issues. Especially when it comes to reindeer. That is why he has the beard and the bag. He lives in the North Pole because that is the only place where reindeer sex isn't outlawed. (There and Norway, but seriously, who wants to live in Norway?)
The Easter Bunny? Seriously? Have you ever wondered what a giant rabbit painting eggs and hiding them has to do with anything? No? Then my joke is working. Keep quiet, have another parcel.

TG & BI : What company should we invest in heavily to ensure the future of our families are secure?
Librarian : Well, I would go with Appl...
TG & BI : He said Google. Yep, thats what he said. Google. (Google gods, if you're reading this, please make us rich and famous. Not necessarily in that order).

TG & BI: Anything you'd like to tell our readers before we end?
Librarian : Comment. Or Chuck Norris will come after you. And press the awesomeness box repeatedly. And don't forget to click stuff on the next poll.

Monday, 4 April 2011

En Route To The Cloud

In a desperate attempt to not lose readership, I'm going to head back to the shitty, scum covered roots of the blog and write like that illiterate twat that I was before I returned to the blog in January and post something I came up with in 2 minutes. I call this type of post ; 2 minute poop posts.

We are currently en route to the lesbian cloud and a rant is necessary to pass the time on this mighty voyage. And this seems the best thing to do because they're showing that crappy Julia Roberts - Richard Gere movie on the plane and I would rather take the plastic forks in the economy class meals and gouge my eyes out while screaming the lyrics to "Bohemian Rhapsody" rather than watch that movie.
Being owners of shitty computers, our only method of passing time is to go to our rich friends houses and play Halo on their huge TVs and multiple gaming systems. This doesn't make us bad people. My computer system can hardly run Hitman 2 and I can't even get to the 4th level. Bad Ideas' computer is also shitty but he has finished Hitman 2 so his life has now lost all purpose. Sad, aren't we?

Economy class is to put quite simply an opportunity to sympathize with bombers. More than wanting to please their imaginary friend called God, they were probably just more pissed off with the crap food. ( Yes I am hoping to get hate comments from this reminding me of the evil I am relating with). I luckily have the aisle seat so I can get up whenever I want. Bad Ideas has window seat so he can stare at the clouds outside and randomly yell at the ones he doesn't like. We have a fat Albanian women in the middle. Somehow she has managed to have her side lard cross over the seat divider and steal half my seat. Like I said, the movie on the plane isn't much distraction. They ran out of peanuts because the Albanian took 20. I'm wondering how the plane is still up in the air with this earthquake-causing fatass (check the footnote as well) on board.
This brings me to one of my favourite stories I like to tell. This did actually happen to me (That Guy) a couple years ago. It was when I went to Cuba. On the way back, I was spending a week in Paris with my dad. The Indians had refused him a visa because he was dissin' them at a UN conference so he was coming back to Dhaka via Bahrain while I would go to Delhi from Paris and then Dhaka. As I went to check-in the stupid French people told me ( in their stupid annoying accent) that the plane was overbooked. I asked what I'm supposed to do to get back home (I am 15 in this story). The conversation that ensued was like this

Stupid French person: "Well, we can send you to Mumbai and you take the plane to Delhi from there".
Me : " My Indian visa expired. I can't go into the domestic airport"
SFP : "You can take the plane from Mumbai to Hong Kong. Then come back to Delhi"
Me (staring disbelievingly) : "What?"
SFP : "Or the plane to Hong Kong stops in Delhi. You can get off there"
Me : " Alright whatever."

As soon as I say this, SWAT teams rush in to the terminal and start evacuations because they found a bomb. Only in France. So they take this "bomb" and BLOW IT UP on the runway. (It was just a piece of luggage somebody left while they went to the toilet). I run to the boarding gate. The person there is Indian- French. Bad combination. He says I'm too late. I say " Well there was a fucking bomb. Not really my fault". The guy seems sympathetic and says " Come with me. You can take the plane to Moscow and go to Delhi from there." I swear I'm not making this up.

Anyways, I went to Moscow. I had no winter clothes because I was coming from Cuba. And conveniently, it was -2 degrees in Moscow airport. After we land, they bring in heat sensors. Did I mention I had 102 degree fever and it was during Swine Flu craze? Well, I ran out of the plane like a crazy terrorist who needs the bathroom. Then froze for the next 3 hours before the plane to Delhi.

My hands hurt from typing this in a 2 minute limit. There was a few more points to the story that I can't be bothered to add. Comment or send me an email (email address is at the top of the blog right below the picture.) to hear the rest of it. Fat woman is trying to steal my dessert.

Monday, 28 March 2011

Acronyms and a Picture of a Leprechaun

Acronyms such as LOL and ROFL and LMAO and ROFLJACKOFFTOFALLOUTBOY have been menacing the internet's intellectuals since the beginning of social networking (Thank you, Mark Fuckerburg, you fucking gremlin prick) and the tween revolution. These intelligence lowering noises are like sparkly vampires who make you suck their cock instead of them sucking your blood, which is scarier unless you're gay in which case they force you to have sex with the opposite sex. The only sense the last sentence needs to make is that these abbreviations are bad. Keeping in mind the general public (YOU) are defined by their low intelligence, lets explain in simpler terms shall we. Lawlz dawg, diz shizz iz badz, yo. If youz iz not agreez, youz a poopie. Better?


So why is ROFLATEMYSOAP so bad? Well, don't you find it annoying when you say "hello" and the other person says "lol”. As soon as you see those three letters on your screen you know the conversation is doomed. No matter how much you try, unless you are on a perfectly intellectual par with the other person (meaning you're both dumbasses), efforts to resurrect the conversation will prove futile.

Nobody laughs at a knock knock joke unless they are mentally retarded or breathing pure Nitrogen Dioxide. So when I say “Knock knock" and you say "ROFLPISSYMYPANTS", you are obviously lying. A simple, expressionless "haha" would have sufficed. But alas, people have tiny brains and copy other tiny brained people leading to a vicious cycle of stupidity and falling for ill-constructed internet scams.

This post was originally meant to contain more meaningless rants but procrastination, being the crafty bastard it is, wouldn't allow us to. But anyways, tell us what you think of this (click on the box left of awesomeness, don't be a bitch) and comment.

If you don't want to comment, you can spam That Guy at bareeshx@gmail.com. Don't tell him I'm handing this out. If he is insistent on finding out then blame the leprechaun. Don’t worry, he’s a close friend, he won’t mind taking the blame.


Also we are going to be inactive for quite a while. We have heard weather forecasts of a lesbian cloud in the vicinity of South Asia and plan on chasing it. That Guy, will however respond to comments and tell spammers to fuck off, but don't expect any new posts. I expect the adventure will continue until 8th of June at least. Expect pictures of our escapades in our next post. And please don't unfollow us. We are not incapable of begging and baking cookies to reward you for loyalty.

Bad Ideas & That Guy