Author: Sharkey

I’ve been wondering what this God-awful stench was for the last week or so, then I took a look at the bottom of my shoes and realized that I had stepped in some Daredevil and had yet to wipe it off.

Well, as I was attempting to get some work done last night, my girlfriend tragically flipped on the 45th Annual Grammy Awards. I went on for twenty minutes, not knowing exactly why the sounds that I was hearing had simultaneously given me a taste of vomit in my mouth and a feeling of impending doom in my bowels. Could’ve been the undercooked chicken I had for dinner too, but I think Dustin Hoffman’s little speech had more to do with my body’s wish to expel fluids from any possible orifice than salmonella ever could.

First off, let’s start with Bruce Springsteen. When the Hell did The Boss start to The Suck? Everyone gave him a standing ovation for a performance that made me want to tear off my own ears and send them back to the factory for a good cleaning. His backup singers looked just as goofy as he did while singing, and sounded twice as bad. I would like to believe that the audience was clapping because the music had finally ended, and their ears could breathe a sigh of relief. But that can’t be the case, as these poor bastards were at the Grammy’s, the pain had just begun.

Next up we’ve got Erykah Badu, who would probably call me a racist cracker for even mocking her presentation. Well if being a racist cracker means mocking you for fucking up reading a teleprompter, then racist cracker suits me just fine, lil’ missy. “Wait for applause”, holy shit do we have trouble in our educational system.

Then you’ve got those Dixie Chicks playing their cover of Smashing Pumpkin’s cover of Fleetwood Mac’s Landslide. I gotta admit, those girls have got something. And what they have, is over-fucking-exposure. I don’t ever listen to country, unless tied down and forced. But I swear, I’ve heard that lackluster cover more times than I’ve heard Stairway and the Friends theme song combined.

Lastly, I’d like to sum up by saying that after watching a mere ten minutes, I’d had enough to write an entire few paragraphs of sheer hatred. Then I spent four minutes watching a post-show wrapup while waiting for the weather, and thanked God that I didn’t watch any more. Who the Hell are these people, and why haven’t I heard of them? The newscasters were bickering over who should have won awards, and the nominees were no more recognizable to me than victory would be to the French. Either I’ve lost track of what good music is, or music has become so shitty in general that there’s no point in even paying attention. They may as well have given a Grammy to Clint Howard, at least I like Clint Howard.

By the way, I do not know why everyone cares about this Norah Jones chick, and I certainly don’t give a shit who her father is, but I can tell you this: she’ll make a fine addition to Slice Of The Day. Send the boobies to me children, my eyes must be cleansed of their Grammy-riddled nightmares.

But not in the form you’re thinking… [ Kidshealth: I’m a Guy… So How Come I’m Developing Breasts? ]

They take a really roundabout route to avoid telling these kids to stop eating so many Goddamn Twinkies.

[ British Schoolkids to Be Asked to Consider Oral Sex ]

Just that title alone warrants a post, but the subject matter is even better. British administrators are attempting to incorporate oral sex into the “sex education” equation. This is supposed to help eliminate some teenage pregnancies, by encouraging Britain’s high school girls to take the shot in the mouth instead. Two questions immediately arise from my horribly perverted mind. One: in the immortal words of The Ladies’ Man “Have you considered da butt?” Two: does semen hold any kind of value as a teeth cleansing product, because if so, all the better.

Just remember lil’ British chicks, it can’t taste any worse than that crap you pass off as food.

I don’t want to detract from FaaQ’s grand post below, but I just love this picture.

If he’s just joking, I’d like to give him a firm handshake. If he’s serious, I’d like to give him a hug… with an iron maiden.

** Edit: Seems that it is indeed a joke. Here’s a couple of other signs that these guys used to mock protesters. Thanks to LJS for makin’ me look twice for the answers.

I’ve been taking these supplement pills for my workout regiments, kind of like creatine and energy pills that give you that extra bit of oomph. I took them about ten minutes ago, and I kind of felt like I had a bit of indigestion ever since. I was about to get up and grab another glass of water when I released a firm, crispy belch. Try and picture a gray cloud of powder escaping out of the most disgusting belch I’ve let out in years, accompanied by a terrible burning sensation in my sinuses and a flavor not at all unlike powdered ass, and you’ve got the scenario which unfolded before my eyes.

I think I see spots.

So I took the girlfriend to Los Angeles over Valentines Day. Went to the Getty yesterday, mocked a bunch of protesters, drove back for dinner. It was actually this dinner theater thing for my mother’s birthday, where the servers are actually performers. I can say with all honesty that they were not necessarily blessed with an overabundance of talent in either field. I hold to this, even after attempting to get my parking validated after the show, and the entire cast improvising a parking validation song in my honor to the tune of “Lady Marmalade”. But really, it was hard to take them seriously in the first place, since I’d seen the entire male portion of the cast do an act with cowboy hats and skirts called “Ballerinas of the Prarie”. It wasn’t as bad as it sounds… well, that song was. After that and 8 hours of shuteye, I’ve pretty much been working all day.

All that was done while waiting for the fucking site to load. Now while I wait for the submit function to go through for this post, I’m going to order a pizza and write the great American novel.

This is the day you’ve all been waiting for. Some will be disappointed, some will be extatic. Others, will do things that the rest of us don’t need to know about. Here it is my friends, more pictures of the delectable Fernanda Martinelli. I know, you love me, and its not even Valentines Day yet. Oh, you were talking to Fernanda, I see, I get it…

A special thanks to the Pie Forum kids, who stand an ever vigilant watch over the Net, lest any unwatched porn slip through their fingers. Fernanda’s still jailbait I’m afraid, but does that even matter in Brazil? Not that I’d mind, personally my life probably isn’t even worth a night with her. Maybe like, twenty minutes and a Tootsie-Pop afterwords, but that’s about it. I’d probably be glad to trade, too.

If there’s one things BAMF is known for, it’s monkeys and French-bashing. Well, it’s time for all of that to change. …waitaminute, did I say change? I meant endure, like Rocky in a French boxing ring. Ha! Endurance is king!

Anyway, let’s move on to the monkeys first, as they bring us joy through the smiting of our enemies and the biting of the stupid. I received a link from NC, who posed the question “What did she do to cross you?” The answer is, nothing. As in, nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about… uh… dude.

A woman died after the motorcycle she was on hit a monkey, which dashed across the road, at the Km19 of Jalan Lipis-Lubuk Kulit, near Lipis, on Monday.

Nahina, who suffered severe head and shoulder injuries, was rushed to Lipis Hospital but she died at 7.05pm.

Supt Baharuddin said Tazul Aidi suffered only light injuries. However, the monkey died on the spot.

Fucking japanese intern monkeys, always with the kamikaze shit. Bite, scratch, and get the Hell out of there you little bastard, no need to play the hero when things go a little awry.

Secondly, the French are sick and tired (thanks Scott) of the numerous jokes and the general mockery that we Americans make of them, especially after their attempts to lead the anti-war resistance. The article is filled to the brim with examples of America’s “anti-frog” slander. Dig:

“I think it’s stupidity, all these words,” said Claude DeBardin, president of the French-American Friendship Foundation, echoing other French expatriates. “Of course it is inconvenient to hear these criticisms. I think, I hope, it will all soon go away.”

That’s unlikely, at least at the United Nations. France has a Security Council veto and claims some of the UN’s best-seasoned diplomats, but it takes a beating at the water coolers. “What do you call 100,000 Frenchmen with their arms up?” asked a United Nations guard, a New Yorker who lives in the Bronx. “The army.”

U.S. Secretary of State Colin Powell has dismissed a Franco-German proposal to bolster the UN weapons-inspection process as akin to having “Inspector Clouseaus running all over Iraq,” a reference to the bumbling detective in the Pink Panther movies.

You know, I’m afraid I have to agree with the Frenchies on this one. I’ve seen their beautiful country firsthand, and enjoyed their culture, which has given me insight into this situation. Perhaps we’ve been too hard on them. So I would like to share with you an actual conversation that transpired between myself, and a noble French gentleman during my stay there last summer:

Sharkey: “You know Francois, there is a lot of anti-French sentiment amongst my countrymen.
Francois: “Oui, zees ees unfortunately zee truth.”
Sharkey: “We have unfairly labeled you as cowards, snobs, and other terrible prejudices. And today, as an American, I must take a stand. The mockery must end here, mon frere. So to you and all of your wonderful people I must offer a fond “Ich entschuldige mich.”
Francois: “I appreciate your sentiment my American friend, but I am afraid zat I cannot understand you.”
Sharkey: “Oh, I’m sorry. It’s German for “I apologize.”
Francois: “But mon ami, I do not speak zee German.”
Sharkey: “Yeah, I know. We’re why. In fact, I’ve got my Grandfather’s phone number if you’d like to call him up and thank him… HEY! WHERE ARE YOU GOING! Fucking rude bastards.”

And after I so graciously commented that Paris didn’t smell nearly as armpit-like as I would’ve expected. Still, he didn’t put up a fight or even raise his voice to object. No surprise there, eh?

Wow, four years since the actual first news post hit badassmofo.com. It was four years ago yesterday that I opened the site, but that doesnt actually count, seeing as how I only posted self-serving bullshit to an audience that included me, and uh… me again from a different browser, creating the illusion of that extra “hit”. How far have we progressed? Let’s have a look:

Teletubbies are for Homos — Sharkey
The Rev. Jerry Falwell is trying to out one of the “Teletubbies”. The February edition of Falwell’s National Liberty Journal warns parents that the purple, purse-carrying Tinky Winky may be a gay role model; to support its claim, the article notes that purple is the gay-pride color and that the character’s antenna is shaped like a triangle-a symbol of gay pride.

“The fact that he carries a magic bag doesnt make him gay,” Steve Rice [spokesman forthe show] said. “It’s a children’s show, folks. To think we would be putting sexualinnuendo in a children’s show is kind of outlandish.”

Tinky Winky was last heard to have said “All we were tryin’ to do was spread the damn love, man!”

Meanwhile, Falwell apparently isn’t alone in his conclusions: The gay magazine Out has previously alluded to Tinky Winky’s possible homosexuality. I’d file this one under, “Who gives a shit?”

Hmm… yes, I seem to remember being a bit of a pompous ass. But see, the difference now is that I’m a pompous ass with four years of Internet writing skills under my belt, beeyotch.

And yes, my previous comment that yesterday did not count as the official “birthday” was indeed bullshit, and just a cover up of the fact that I forgot to post something about it in the first place. Honestly is always the best policy. …Actually, if blowjobs are a policy, then honesty is second only to that. Wang mouthification trumps pretty much any hand in the deck, in my opinion.