In The Words Of R. J. MacReady: Crazy Swedes

The meek shall inherit the earth. Right after this Norwegian guy's finished with it.

Hurling. It's Like Dodgeball, Only The Bullies Have A Stick To Beat You With, Too

Show a little mettle, lads. You've got a stick as well. That big fella oughta be picking up his teeth with his broken arm by the two-minute mark.

Plenty of hurling after the match, too, I imagine, after a trip to the pub. 

Oh, I Want One Of Those. And A Swallow

African, Or European?

(Thanks to Charles Schneider for sending that one along. Trot, trot to Boston; trot, trot to Lynn...)

Kids These Days. They Grow Up So Fast. They Fall Off Things So Often

(Some naughty lyrics in the soundtrack)

Let The Sissies Beat Their Swords Into Plowshares. Real Men Beat Their Shovels Into AK-47s

Boris, posting over at Northeast Shooters, details his method for purchasing a $2 shovel at a flea market and making it into an AK-47.

I cut the handle from the shovel and fashioned it into a buttstock for my Bulgy AK with ever changing furniture. This new butt stock had proven to be surprisingly comfortable. Well, this is not the end, it's a beginning, because one night I was drinking with the shovel and contemplating what to do with it. It's funny, when you are sober, you can' understand how a shovel can share with you a delicious drink of vodka. So I said to shovel, I will re-unite you with your handle and we had another round of drinks to celebrate! ... and then I cut it up.

Lotsa pictures and amusing how-to information at the link.


(Thanks to the well, but not nearly as elegantly, armed Gerard at American Digest for sending that one along)

"Urban Skiing." I Dunno. It Sounds As Odd As "Amish Mugging"

JUST END THE SEASON! J. E. T. S. Jest Jest Jets!

Wilforklift!

Rollercoaster Tycoon Massacre

When my son was younger, he'd play Rollercoaster Tycoon. He was a pretty fair businessman, even when he was still in diapers. If one of the little brats in the park started ruining his reputation and hurting his bottom line because there were 4000 park-goers and one bathroom, or the little virtual snot-nosed kneebiters didn't like walking on all the walkways spangled with vomit anymore, or God forbid, they vandalized something, he'd never try to appease them. He wouldn't hire a janitor. He wouldn't slash prices. No advertising. He'd pick the complaining noseminers up with his giant virtual hand and drop them in the lake.

Apparently, my son was a piker at this sort of thing. 

Dear John, Juan, Jan, Ivan, Sean, Hans, 約翰, Jean, Johannes ...

(Thanks to Travis from Zeke Mahogany for sending that one along)

It's A Small World, But I Wouldn't Want To Rake It

Maybe it's just me, but I would have set the leaves on fire before I jumped off the roof into them. That's just how I roll.

BSBFB, Agricultural Division: Get Plowed, Ride Around On Hot Rod Tractor

What did you plant today, dear?

Donuts.

(Thanks to son of the soil Gerard, at American Digest, for sending that one along)

Sport Is The School Of Rules

Class dismissed.

If Even A Family Dressed Like Extras In A Cable-Access Performance Of Porgy And Bess Have This Technology, We're All Doomed

Robots! Robot spiders! Babies! ARGGHHH!

Apparently They Have A Knuckleheads"Я"Us In Latvia, Too

Bruce Lee's Screen Test From 1965 Is Fourteen Kinds Of Fun

Skip to 4:20 if you just want to see him make some old assistant director dude wet himself.

Red Bull's Videos Are So Engaging That One Almost Forgets The Fluid They're Selling Tastes Like A Cat Lady's Seat Cushions

(Thanks to Brian "Rube" Erb for sending that one along)

This Kind Of Reminds Me Of An Average Morning Commute Into Boston On The Southeast Expressway

Still more realistic looking than your average Tom Cruise movie.

(Thanks to friend of the BSBFB Charles Schneider for sending that one along)

Anyone Can Succeed. But Ask Yourself: Can You Fail With Style?

OK, so it's got a hint of smoking section on the Hindenburg. A touch of sirloin wetsuit. Just a smidgen of Saran Wrap bullet-proof vest.  Let's admit that.

But style? By gad, it's got epic style.

(Thanks to Gerard at American Digest for sending that one along. He's a few bottle rockets short of outer space himself)

We're Borderline Sociopathic Boys. Every Wall Is A Wall Of Death. This One's Just A Little More Fun Than Average

(Thanks goes out to Borderline supporter Rob Bariton for sending that one along)

It's All Conversation Until Walter Sobchak Shows Up

(Sent along by the man; the myth; the legend -- Gerard at American Digest)

The Wrong Side Of The Railing

Borderline friend Xavier de le Rue is back with another season of strapping his feet to a board and falling off frosty things with style.

Back in the day, I had a friend that worked at Killington mountain in Vermont. We used to go skiing on off-days, when there weren't big crowds, and we'd go under the warning ropes and ski down some of the closed trails. It's an exhilarating feeling to go where you're not supposed to. 

The Patch Of Blood Visible On His Hand Is A Nice Touch

Sometimes it takes a home-brew bazooka to elicit the mating call of the moronicus domesticus. Listen to the lovely tittering call they make after they perform their fuel/air/tinder ceremony. Time for the survivors to mate. Alas, there are no females of the species available nearby. Can't imagine why. Girls go in big for homemade bazookas, I'm told.

Shooting Baskets. Like il Capo

Not sure if this qualifies for this blog. He's not reading a comic book. Oh, well.

(Thanks to all around capo di tutti capi Charles Schneider for sending that one along)

The 600 Series Had Rubber Skin. We Spotted Them Easy

But these are new. They look human... sweat, bad breath, everything. Very hard to spot. I had to wait till he moved on you before I could zero him.





I don't like using the term "fantastic" to refer to something better described as memorable, or notable, or even extraordinary. That way, when I see something like this fellow and his robotic arm, I can say, "That's fantastic."

I'm Going So Fast I'm In My Own Rear View Mirror

How a sonic boom works.

Oh Danny Boy, The Pipes, The Pipes Are Calling...

(A little swearing)





The shortest book I ever read was: Famous Irish Plumbers

Oh, The Hell With It; Change All Five Wheels

Things don't always go so swimmingly on pit row:

Cool Animated Video Set In A Future Post-Apocalypse World, Or Detroit Yesterday

I watched Blade Runner the other day. According to their timeline, in seven years, it'll be raining all the time in Los Angeles, and everyone there will be Oriental. But they'll still read paper newspapers.

But hey -- flying cars.