Well, we have a Super Bowl on the horizon. It’s going to be as exciting as watching any episode of Emily in Paris.
One on side you have the Chiefs. Fuck them. Am I bitter over the Ravens loss? Damn straight. Do I loathe Travis “I Get Pegged by Ms. Swift” Kelce? If I could shove a mason jar full of carpet tacks down his throat, I would.
Don’t forget Kermit the Princess. His crybaby antics make Mr. Brady seem like Charles Bronson in the Dirty Dozen. Also, his wife still has one foot planted firmly in the trailer park.
As for Ms. Swift? I don’t know one of her songs. She seems like an okay person. If she disappeared tomorrow, I wouldn’t notice.
The Niners. I have a special place in my heart for them. A good friend was born and raised in California, huge fan. Funniest guy I ever knew – like Chris Farley without the drugs. Surprisingly, still fucking hilarious.
He had a stroke a few years ago, and when I would talk to him, I would hang up and think about crying. I DIDN’T CRY I NEVER CRY MEN DON’T CRY. FUCK YOU UNIVERSE FOR TAKING THIS GUY.
I do like Kittle. He’s a goofy fucking guy, and I can’t recall the name of that running back. Bronco Nagurski? Yeah, that’s him.
This means that most of us are facing a boring as shit, star studded, over blown, overweight, packed-to-the-gills-with-shit Super Bowl. Bummer.
But I have some suggestions on how to pass the time on that day. They are inspired by things I did from childhood to my early 30’s. NOTE: Do this shit at your own risk. I am alive because stupid people rarely get killed. Well, not all of them.
Cap Guns
First gun I ever owned was a cap gun. It was okay, but we learned if you took a whole roll of caps and set them on fire, it was highly entertaining. You could also just bang them with rocks and get decent explosions. And that gunpower smell, better than napalm. Buy them here.
BB Guns
Second gun I ever owned. I had a Red Ryder and my mother was furious with my father when he gave it to me. Use them safely for about 10 minutes, then shoot anything: windows, your friends, birds, the dog. BB guns are great. And fuck those Airsoft guns, fucking lightweight. You haven’t earned your stripes until you’ve dug a copper BB from under your skin.
Bike Stunts
Get a bike, you can steal one. Go to the top of a hill and then pedal as fast as you can, when you near the bottom, jump off to see how far the bike goes. Walk bike home with bent rims, blown tires, and mangled handle bars. Blame your sister.
Violence
Used to be you could go out and pick a fight and have a good old-fashioned punch up. Sometimes it just happened. Maybe a black eye, a few stitches, and a great story to tell your kids as they light up a bong and ignore you. Don’t try this now. You’ll get a Glock rammed up your nose or be set on fire.
Breaking Stuff
You can break nearly anything, but bottles and windows are the two best. Smash them on the ground, throw them into the street, and find an abandoned house and break those windows. The sound is better than any music you’ve ever heard. Warning: cops and parents disapprove of this behavior.
Fire
Fire is the gift from Prometheus, and everyone enjoys not using it correctly. My friends and I were legit firebugs, and even today fire is FUN! Once, we lit a tube of caulking and it blazed up immediately, we decided flinging it around was a capital idea. One huge glob landed on the roof of my friend’s house, and began a small fire. We stood on top of his mom’s Jaguar with a hose to put it out. (I had rich kids in my neighborhood, and rich kids are insane. They also do a lot of drugs.)
Fireworks are fun, and living in Maryland we had to buy them from shady teenagers. We would stock up on bottle rockets, cut down lacrosse sticks, slap some tape on the bottom, and had mini, hand-held rocket launchers. Running around shooting bottle rockets and Roman candles at your friends is exciting. I had one go off a foot from my ear, couldn’t hear for two days.
Another true story, we were lighting off jumping jacks at the beach, and threw one into the bay. It skipped around and landed in a boat, near the motor, where there were two cans of gas. We ran like hell. Nothing exploded. Bummer.
Besides gasoline, you can use other accelerants: WD-40, PJ1-Chain Lube, and the like. Aerosol cans are tricky to light, lots of shrapnel. The old, “soak a tennis ball in rubbing alcohol and play hot potato” can entertain for hours.
Drinking
Ah, something we can all appreciate, right? Here’s what you do. Get $150 from the bank, call your friends, buy a pack of Marlboro Lights. Go to a bar, smash down beers, then shots of chilled Grand Marnier, more beers, shots of Orange Stoli, beers, and then finish the night with shots of Wild Turkey. You can then try to talk to women, fail, and then throw up in the alley. Next day is a scavenger hunt! Where’s my car? Where’s my wallet? Where are my keys? Why am I sleeping in a park?
Dating Psychotics
Find a person who is nice and kind, and pretty. Date them for a while and slowly realize they have daddy issues (I attracted these types of women like a buffet attracts Andy Reid.) Maybe they were coke addicts and anorexics in college, or had a child at 16 and gave it up for adoption, or tell you later they’re bi-sexual. Hand to God, all of this shit did happen to me. Makes for an interesting life.
I’m hoping these activities can spice up an otherwise dull Super Bowl. Of course, feel free to experiment and create your own fun! First game of the 2024 NFL season is September 5, 2024. Jesus take the motherfucking wheel.
It’s hate week, right? Ya know what I fucking hate? Funeral homes. This is awful. The flowers are grossing me out so bad I may puke. And I’ve never been in a Pittsburgh funeral home that didn’t reek of mildew. They’re all old and gross. Boooooo funeral homes. I’m getting cremated, no service of any kind.
BLESS YOU. I have begged my kids to do the same with me. All that lurking around a dead body is just creepy.
No shit. My BIL is painted like a cheap hooker. People are going up there saying he looks good. WTAF?
I’m getting cremated
Like, today? You may want to reconsider.
At the appropriate time, not a second earlier.
I was cremated yesterday, but I got better.
I’m not sure what I want done with my eventual corpse, but it should somehow serve as a warning to others
There’s these bio-bags you can get tossed in, then buried out in the woods or whatever, and the bag helps you decay such that you become good fertilizer.
That’s a good thing, but it’s an expensive way to go for now.
So toss me overboard and let the sharks have a nice fatty meal.
(to clarify, post-death please)
Yup. All of our urnswill be going in my son’s toy chest, including all of the pets. My nephew is going to rent a boat and send us all to the briny deep together.
Fuck yeah on cremation. My mother in law once informed me that it’s a sin in the Catholic church. “I don’t think God will mind by then.” Yup, a one way ticket to the dog house. So worth it.
I’m pretty sure that “It’s a sin in the Catholic Church” is bullshit. My grandmother was cremated and we had a church service for her and she’s stored in a wall the church put in the graveyard specially for cremation urns.
It used to be an issue, but that was many years ago.
I’ve instructed my kids to take our ashes and split them between a Caribbean reef and a spot up in the woods of northwest CT.
They just nod and go back to whatever they’re doing. We’re absolutely winding up in a landfill.
That reminds me of an old joke, paraphrased for football blog purposes:
Q: What did the Raiders fan’s kid get for Christmas?
A: My bike.
Also, the best way to play with bottle rockets is to make bazookas out of pvc (basically you just need a big tube and a handle) and fire them at each other like RPGs.
We used metal vacuum cleaner extension tubes as bottle-rocket barrels.
I’m amazed I survived my childhood.
I hereby nominate Inspector Owen Hurley for the DFO Award for Meritorious Conduct.
“Hertfordshire Policeman Demoted for Selling His Trousers”
https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-england-beds-bucks-herts-68218617?ICID=ref_fark
Would be better if he took them off and sold them while on duty, but I’ll still give him a tentative ‘one of us’
In more jjfozz happy news, here’s an unlocked WSJ article about the sale of the Orioles:
https://www.wsj.com/sports/baseball/baltimore-orioles-sale-camden-yards-angelos-rubenstein-80259dc0?st=2d73jipg79e2gx3&reflink=desktopwebshare_permalink
NHL: Thanks for Auston Matthews. We’re moving you to Houston or SLC
https://twitter.com/andystrickland/status/1755333262396805562?t=rpxiXtRBLEWUxS2xrrpmOQ
Hope it’s Salt Lake, but it’ll be Houston.
Great stuff, Jjfozz. Took me on a lil trip down memory lane to my own misspent youth. A couple more pointers:
1) Houses under construction are great sources for fort / ramp material. It’s also fun to break in and absolutely trash them. Smashing toilets, marble countertops, hot water heaters, setting them on fire, etc. is jolly good fun. (However, unwise to film yourself and your lil shitbag friends doing so. Thank the Lord there were no phones you could film with when I was a kid)
2) Model rocket “engines” are just uncontrolled, large, bottle rockets. However, seek cover after lighting, because you never know just where they will go! Woo!
One time I was at the beach and came across some younger kids who were using a big slingshot to try to shell people on the beach with water balloons. They couldn’t reach, because they were a bunch of 12-year-olds.
As an older person I felt it was my duty to guide them.
So I got two of them to each hold one end of the sling while I pulled the band back as far as it would go. Fuck the beach, we were hitting boats anchored in the shallows. That’s when I knew I’d make a hell of a parent.
On further reflection I think this was on Montauk.
Those fuckers had it coming.
I can still see the woman we narrowly missed on one of the boats. The balloon hit the side of the boat right next to her and she damn near jumped overboard.
We were up in the dunes. No one ever saw us. Still kind of amazes me.
/watching a doc on Harold Ballard, the owner of the Leafs in the 70’s/early 80’s
-after his wife passed he moved into Maple Leaf Gardens 24/7
-he didn’t pay for food-he just ate whatever was at the concession stands
-he really liked the boat mechanic at his cottage so he made him the team trainer
-after firing a coach in the media he asked him to go back behind the bench with a bag over his head
Well, I’m back from Brazil. Archer is right, Portuguese is a language that definitely delivers a lot of bang for you buck in terms of the places where it’s spoken being sexy and awesome.
Río?
They speak it EXTRA sexy there.
Sao Paulo. I’ll probably write it up as a BOTG of some form.
https://www.thedailybeast.com/marine-vet-accuses-jack-burkman-and-jacob-wohl-of-smear-job-in-dollar11m-lawsuit
If they can just make shit up and willingly ruin lives, how about this:
Jacob Wohl and Jack Burkman manufacture and sell meth to school children all over the DC area. I have no proof, but that doesn’t matter, right?
It’s certainly more plausible than the idea that Jack Burkina and Jacob Wohl have $11 million between them.
Would Jack Burkina and Jacob Wohl having $11 million between them be considered a sandwich?
The last time my brother’s company sent him on a business trip, he landed in Tokyo the day Abe was offed.
He’s currently in San Diego, where they’re experiencing Storm of Century conditions, and now a Marine helicopter from the nearby Marine Air Station has gone missing.
I thought my brother worked as a professional culinary consultant, but, evidently he’s an Agent For H.A.R.M. without realizing it.
You just gonna out him like that?
I get it, he’s part of the game and (under)world, and don’t talk yadda yadda.
I wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t friggin brag about it.
Abe Lincoln?
How did he like the play?
Blew his mind.
They found the chopper. But not the five Marines aboard. WTH is he up to?
Did they find the chopper anywhere near Donner Pass?
Because that would not be good.
No, but yes.
Do they still sell strike anywhere matches? Take a bunch of those matchheads and some shredded tin foil, stick em in a ping pong ball you cut in half. Tape it back together and now you have a flash grenade!
My buddy has a box in his basement as you read this. Or, at least since the last time I was there, about a month ago.
I suppose the answer is, “yes, they do.”
Add a bone… baby, you got a stew goin’!
RIP Carl Weathers
like we all don’t want to do this
https://twitter.com/TheCumpound/status/1755012559210418558
-1 point for not yelling “FIRE IN THE HOLE!”
Hell yeah is right!
Fuck yeah!
Pumpkin cannon. https://www.pumpkinnook.com/facts/chuckin.htm
An old college friend of mine was on junkyard wars doing that!
Got a hankering FOAR a raging semi (or two)? Afrikan Euros on BeIn! RITE NOW!!!
Stupid Comcast
tell them DAS RAYCESS
I own a Remington 870 12-gauge pump action shotgun with a full 28″ barrel
and a beautiful 1946 Winchester Model 70 bolt-action rifle chambered in Winchester .270
and a California-legal Glock 19 Gen 3 pistol in 9mm parabellum
HOWEVER: I don’t own any ammunition for them (except for the shotgun, and that’s only in case of zombie attacks. The 28″ barrel shotgun is the most honest self-defense firearm you can own. You can’t hide it, yet you can point it).
I was taught firearms safety in the Boy Scouts and the U.S. Navy, and 50% of the training was about responsibility. This isn’t a toy, this isn’t a movie prop, this isn’t an extension of your dick. Keep it stowed or handle it very carefully.
Since I don’t have any ammo, all I can do is hit you over the head with the weapon. Unless you’re a zombie.
I’ve got a double-barreled 12-gauge something-or-other inherited from my father-in-law. I also inherited a Savage Model 99 in .300 Savage, which is a weird repeater which has a rotary magazine, rather than a tube magazine.
I’ve also got more airguns than is mentally healthy, from $70 ones to $1000 ones. I just punch holes in paper with them, although the local chipmunks are getting on my shit list.
First time I accidently murdered something bigger than a bug (that I’m aware of), a sparrow or wren caught the .22 pellet I had intended for the chippy.. Still feel bad about that. Sorry buddy.
I might have told this story already, but I like telling it on myself. My friends and I went out deer hunting in the fall, and I was carrying a shotgun with deer slugs in it. Deer hunting wasn’t working out, which was kind of expected, so I switched to squirrel hunting using the shells I had brought for just that purpose. So something came running through the fallen leaves and I shot it thinking it was a squirrel. It turned out it was a chipmunk. I went to pick it up by its tail, and its tail came off in my hand. Poor little guy. What a bummer. I haven’t gone hunting since.
When you die and go to heaven, that chipmunk is going to be staring at you, going “WTF dude?”
”IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN YOU!!”
I think I’ve told a similar one before-Grandpa took me hunting for deer and nothing was around so he shot a duck that simply disappeared in an explosion of feathers.
Your family must love Randy Johnson.
And for those gearing up for the End Times, the 870 is a classic. You can’t go wrong with it.
DFO skeet shoot meetup?
Sign me up for that. Skeet shooting is a lot of fun.
Since us plebes can’t edit, can someone correct my original post to say that my 870 has a full 28″ barrel (as opposed to my erroneous 21″, which would be a scatter gun). 28″ barrel is the “honest firearm.”
When I was a kid, we had an old widow who lived in a big house across the street from us (my mom still lives in the same house and I’ll be there Sunday). One night, she heard noises in her basement.
She got her shotgun and stood at the top of the basement stairs and said “I know someone’s down there. I’m an old lady and I have a shotgun and I’m not afraid to use it.”
The next morning the police (and us neighbor kids) all saw that someone had broken into her basement, and apparently quickly left.
21″ vs 28″, por que no los dos?
28″ is the full length barrel (that I own). With the stock it’s about 4 feet long, and no way is it concealable.
The shortest barrel legal in California has to exceed 18″ so that’s why you see 18.5″ barrels offered. Those are scatter guns, and are used by LAPD, but again I have no interest in them.
I just want to shoot at paper. Actually I don’t even like shooting, that’s why I don’t own any ammo. I just like cleaning the weapon like a sculpture. My vintage 1946 Winchester Model 70, when it’s been cleaned and oiled, the bolt moves like butter.
And all my weapons are locked up so tightly, it takes 45 minutes and three sets of keys to get at one.
I’m a lover not a killer.
Yeah, if you don’t want to use it for home defense or ‘home defense’, the longer barrel is better.
Well, if you can’t enact reasonable gun laws going after the parents of school shooters is a great start and a long time coming.
https://www.cnn.com/us/live-news/oxford-shooting-jennifer-crumbley-trial-verdict/index.html
ETA: She looks exactly like I pictured her after I read some of her statements.
Shit I read said that the parents went well past, “Left the gun in an unlocked drawer” negligence. Like the school was calling the parents and saying, “Your kid ain’t quite right, and is kind of scary,” and the parents were telling the kid to do a better job of hiding his want-to-shot-up-the-school drawings.
They bought him the gun. He confided in his friends that he wanted to call 911 on himself but was worried his parents wouldn’t be happy with him. When he finally told his parents about his mental health his dad told him to ‘suck it up’. Imagine knowing that your mental health is in the balance and having these
parentspieces of shit.edited for clarity
Kid is their property.
Fires were my thing as a kid-there was plenty of forest around my house so my buddies and I would get a fire going when we were bored. Pallet fires in the summer are a regular thing these days. My youngest had one just last night so the tradition continues.
So what I’m reading is Fozz recommends watching Emily in Paris in lieu of the Super Bowl.
You sir, are a dastardly person.
I know that the fancy pellet airguns, or even the cheap Walmart ones, can send you to the hospital to get that pellet dug out of your ass if the shooter is less than 100 yards away.
Million to one shot, doc!
A friend of mine has a story about a kid he grew up with that was killed by a bb gun. The bb got him right in the hole where the optic nerve goes through the bones in your skull.
…They shot his eye out.
He didn’t even get a chance to wear a cool pirate eyepatch.
Here’s a Zippo lighter I got at the Canadian sub base in Halifax NS when my boat visited and they very graciously hosted us. I traded a hat for this. It still sits on the shelf next to me to this day.
Gumby has some British officer dolphins, that he drank for at a Submarine Birthday ball. Brick will get the drinking for dolphins thing cuz he cool like that.
one knows its about to get crazy when the first item has an Amazon link to purchase that item
Isn’t malicious wounding and stitches part of growing up?
Even in white bread Yinzburgh suburbia, blowing up shit with witch hazel, rubbing alcohol, hairspray, and bleach bombs was how we spent summer nights.
EDIT: my dad was all for my brother and me learning to shoot his rifles and handgun, but NO FRIENDS were allowed. It sucked at the time, but yeah, good advice, Dad.
When I grew up, we would build plastic models of warships and fighter planes, and I was pretty good at it. Then we would take them down to the creek, load them with paint thinner and firecrackers and blow them up.
Legos, Knex, and Lincoln Logs here.
We knew there would be shrapnel. The risks are worth the reward!
I went through a “Binaca breath spray” phase, and as a nice side benefit, you could make great fireballs (if/when bored and a smoker friend produced a lighter).
This was especially helpful in junior high drama class. I usually had one or two lines, so there was ample time to kill.
My rosacea cream says “for external use only.” I’d like to see that replaced with Hey moe-ron – don’t stick this up your pussy (or ass pussy).
Every warning label has a story
Leave it to Hippo to use “ass pussy”.
I’m slowly converting him…
Doug Stanhope has a hilarious bit where I learned that term. When that guy is funny, he’s goddamned hilarious.
I keep waiting to hear that he OD’d or shot up a liquor store.
Paging Buddy Cole for his usage of the word “bussy”!
/I still do not know what it means
Put it on cracker and eat it. Works like a charm.
Also, if you didn’t create a bike jump out of wood, you didn’t have a childhood
that ramp was nawt made by kids:
-mitre cuts
-re-enforced corners
-evenly spaced nails
-all pieces of wood are the same thickness
said no kid evar
this is also on the grass, which means not enough speed to fly farther.
Funny enough, that pic came from a Canadian website!
Blame (Matt) Canada
Totes. A real one would be a piece of plywood on top of a (very precariously) stacked bunch of 2x4s or cinder blocks (depending on what was easier to steal from construction sites on that day)
The first time I tried to jump a bike off a ramp, nobody told me that you have to pop that little wheelie at the top first. Instant header over the handlebars.
I hurt myself skating off a wooden ramp. Landed really hard. Went home and my dad, the OBGYN, says, “It’s nothing, a muscle strain.” After four months of pain, he sends me to the doctor who takes and X-ray and says, “Yeah. You broke it. Your father should stick to checking out vaginas.”
How many Latinas did you date before you settled down?
How dare you imply that nosotras were anorexic in college?
/bandies about daughter’s elementary school switchblade
Holy shit, I actually get to see the feminine plural in the wild!
/Listen, I didn’t go uptown beyond where the good pizzeria was, on 97th, and I definitely didn’t cross Mt. Sinai and walk into the barrio
Just her.
Ah, Roberta Vasquez… Wonderful in the Andy Sidaris films!
Good God, how I have come to love Baltimore. Examples of why:
1) Harry’s Bar
2) THIS sentence – Get a bike, you can steal one.
Harrys was an excellent bar wasn’t it?
Absolutely. As close to perfect as my old law school sports bar was (before it got upgraded from its “dank pit” era)/
They got rid of the dank?
Karl is a true prophet. I remember taking my undergrad drinking buddy there, and we agreed it would be absolutely perfect if there were piss throughs built into the flooring.
Then a year or so later, I drop in and there were candles and TABLECLOTHS and shit.
Not Harry’s in Roma. 10 bones for a soda. And few if any Chicks.
Baltimore Harry would kick Roma Harry’s arse for besmirching his good name!
“You can break nearly anything, but bottles and windows are the two best.”
#Truf 🤣🤣
You can throw one at the other and potentially break both!